My Dad is the Real Dad
April 14, 2001. The day I lost my father. He was 81. I have been trying to put into words to make just the right post to honor my dad for Father’s Day. For some reason, I keep writing and deleting.
Struck down with a stroke at the age of 68, I had missed my dad long before his death. He never regained full use of his right leg or right arm. Speech was never the same. He was smart, great with math and numbers, and very successful in a business he built from the ground up. He managed to send all three of his children to college. Penn State is in my blood. He graduated from there. My brother and my sister graduated from there. My first three cousins graduated from there. Of course I am a Penn State graduate. Yup, you guessed it, my son just finished his freshman year at Penn State this spring. So if you wonder why I don’t take any phone calls during a Penn State football game well, you get the picture.
As I get older, I miss him more every year. He was not a hugger, or would not tell you he loved you and stuff like that. But, we all knew it. He would have done anything for his kids and of course for my mom (happy to say still going strong at 83). Nothing made him happier than when my brother or I came to visit in Florida. He couldn’t wait to arrange doubles tennis matches against other men when we got there. I was not a pro, but I could handle myself. I am not sure if it was the bragging after a victory, or looking back, just playing on the same court with his son that brought him the most joy. Of course, after his stroke, the games ended. So active, so lively, and bam. He actually suffered his stroke getting ready for a tennis match one morning. I flew down to Florida the same day to see him. He didn’t remember my name. I walked out of his hospital room, sat down, and just sobbed. Strokes. Vicious the way it steals.
My oldest was only 6 months at the time. She is now 21 so none of my 3 kids really got to know the man I grew up with. Strong, ironed willed, sense of humor, active. He did improve. Memory got better and with physical therapy walked with a cane. My mom, who was always taken care of by my dad, became his rock. What an amazing woman. Till death do us part. 49 years they spent together. Special.
As I am getting older, I find myself missing him more. I was numb when he passed away in 2001, but I think of him more today. Even after his stroke, I would still go to him with questions. Just needed to be a little patient. His favorite line was , “if it were me I would….. his way of telling me what he thought without telling me what to do or disagreeing.
So many times I wish I could talk to him. Ask his advice. Sometimes I do. I will go to the cemetery and sit and talk. I find I am more emotiional as I get older.
I have been a dad for 21 years. Yet, I still feel kind of like a fake. My dad is the real dad. When I would go to the school and meet with the teachers, they would greet me “Mr. Kahan”.. I would always joke.. ‘ Mr. Kahan is my father, call me Barry”.
A favorite phrase I heard was “What you do, you bring your father and your son with you”. I know my dad enters into many of my decisions. It is funny how when your dad dies, you become the older generation. Expected to know the answers, even as you continue to learn.
I could go on. I guess this is what blogging is suppose to be. Just putting your thoughts down. I tend to over analyze everything. I can see my kids nodding their heads furiously. Well, this time I just decided to let my fingers hit the keys.
Happy Fathers Day Dad. Love you and I miss you.
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