My dad was a man of few words. He didn’t talk about his feelings and if he did it was only to my mother. She had the key to that box and she kept it close to the vest. He was a man of action and showed his love through his many labors. He was always willing to lend a hand on any project and then eventually take over the entire project himself. He would not stop until the job was completed and was a true perfectionist. As a father he was hard to read. He was silent and proud. He seemed intimidating because of his mysterious nature, but I loved him immensely. He was always home by 4 pm at the latest and if he wasn’t going to be home at that time we would know days in advance. Every day, I would wait outside shooting baskets after school waiting for him to arrive. He was never late. He was tired, he was dirty, but he would still play horse or around the world with me. He never said no. He taught me much. He taught me how to ride a bike, he taught me how to catch, he taught me how to fish and he tried to teach me how to golf. As my mother took care of our needs emotionally, my dad was steadfast as a teacher, not knowing at the time that he was providing me knowledge that would last me a lifetime. That was most of my childhood. Much of what he did went unnoticed. He never wanted the credit, he was content in letting others shine as he stood back and watched with pride.

As I grew older, I grew fonder of my father. I started to understand his sacrifices. My mother would take care of our wounds and emotions but my dad was the one who took care of her. I would notice his callused hands from being in the field, which were permanently dirty from his days working. I started to notice the sacrifices of providing even at times working in different states so we could stay in our home. I started to notice that his love was without word, but as I have mentioned his actions and caring for us was his language of love. In my adult life he stood by me, answered every call, literally and figuratively and as I mentioned he never said no. He was consistent to say the least. He was unrelenting. He was like the Greek God Atlas, out of sight with the world on his back. The old adage says that for every great man there is a great woman behind him. To my father that is an untrue statement. For my dad, it says there is a great man behind a happy family in front of him. We came first and I couldn’t have asked for a better father.
This showed as a grandfather as well, as he showed me how to be a father at a young age. I was lost when I had Camden. I struggled with his autism, not knowing how to parent a child with a disability. I would consistently go to my parent’s house and my dad would jump right in. Camden wasn’t different to him. He treated him as he treated me as a child. He challenged him, cuddled him, loved him unconditionally. They would make pancakes in the morning. They would go visit family. They would go on walks. They would watch TV. He taught him how to ride a bike, he taught him how to catch, they shared laughter and my dad would chase him everywhere he went. He never left his side nor missed an opportunity to be with him as he did with me. He was as good as a grandfather as he was as a father. Even before Melissa and I got married, Dax was his grandchild. They would play games for hours on end as my dad would teach him. They would ride on the lawnmower together circling the yard. He was the favorite grandparent, the tireless one, and they knew that. They both dragged him every which way as he followed, he never complained. He never said when. He would eventually tire them out, knowing his job was complete. He will be remembered by them as the perfect grandfather and I take comfort knowing the there isn’t a smudge on his resume as one. My father was an example of what family was about. He had a sense of duty never ignoring it and always fulfilling it. He was routine. He never missed an event. He always showed up. The examples set above were in place long before I was born. He was that man from day one. From his brothers and sister to his stepbrothers, to his in-laws, nieces and nephews; if you needed something he was there. He is the meaning of family and unconditional love. He is a role model to all of us. If you weren’t blood related or married into the family, to my dad you were family anyway. He would treat you as his own. This was not fake or forced, he wanted you to feel a part of it. My dad always had this presence about him. He was 5’11”, 190 lbs. and built like a brick house. I wanted to say 200 but my mom said he’d be mad. I used to tell my friends and co-workers no matter their size that my father would make them feel small. He seemed larger than life. He had a way of making me feel safe when I was in danger, sheltered with no home, happy when I was sad and loved when I was alone. His aura and presence always gave me the assurance that if I had him things were going to be okay. He was my security blanket.