My dad’s arrival home to our little powder blue split level house was one of the most exciting parts of the day when I was growing up. He’d pull up in his Buick (always a Buick) after a long day at the office and my brother and I would run outside to show him the frog we found, or to take him for a ride in the Radio Flyer.
I have so many fond memories of my dad from when I was a child. I remember him teaching my little brother to ride his bike without training wheels, and the sheer joy on his face when he finally figured it out. I remember in junior high when he would practice softball with me endlessly in the backyard – perfecting my role as the slow but steady closing pitcher. I remember nights in high school when I was up crying about a boy, or nervous to go away to college. There was my dad, telling me everything would be ok. And most recently, when I told him how hard it has been to deal with infertility, he told me “You may not become a mother when and how you thought you would, but it will happen for you.” He is a man of few words, but they are usually the right ones.
Now that I have been in the workforce for 10 years, it is hard to imagine coming home from work and mustering up the energy to be such an engaged and loving parent. Some days, it is hard to be a good spouse. If I can be half the parent and all-around good guy that my dad is, my future kids will be very lucky.
Today was my dad’s last day of work. He has worked hard his entire life to support our family and give us a wonderful life with so many opportunities. Congratulations, dad, on a well deserved retirement!