Letter to Dad

Sorry it has taken me so long to write you this letter, but the words do not come easy. Nevertheless, it is long overdue. The time has come for me to say what is on my mind and in my heart.

Being the oldest child, I was the first in our family to go to college. You had only a high school education and mom did not even have that - - because when you grow up in an orphanage at age 16 you are given $20.00 and told the time has come for you to work and make your own way in the world. In neither your, or mom's case, was there money for education, so you both went to work in the factories in the City of Fitchburg. A few years later, you met, fell in love, married and I was born.

Dad, you worked most of your life, 60 hours a week in that hot paper mill for your family, and I wonder if I ever thanked you. The mill gave you a watch for 40 years of an exemplary work record, but did your family ever give you the pat on the back you so deserved?

I think we had little in my early years, but I felt we had everything. I thought we were rich. We had only one car, but you would get up at 4:00 a.m. instead of 5:00 a.m. and walk to work so mom and I would have the car. We would pick you up when the 4:00 p.m. whistle blew so we could eat as a family and then after you were assured our homework was done, you would return to the factory for some much needed overtime. I find it ironic how much you valued education, never having the opportunity for it yourself. Thanks dad.

When my brother John was born, you were so excited. He was your first son. How was it that you never became bitter when due to a grievous medical error, John - your namesake - was left brain damaged and mentally retarded? Instead of being angry, you made the best of a very bad situation and became a key advocate for the retarded. If you weren’t at the Courthouse helping a family, you were volunteering your time at a local workshop for the mentally challenged. John had a great life. Thanks dad.

When I was 14, you and mom had my sister Nancy. She was a bit of a challenge since the two of you were no longer kids, and she was one spirited young girl, but I really thought brother Michael, who arrived when you were age 46 and mom age 44, would put you over the edge. I was wrong. That little bundle of energy – your son and my brother Mike - became your best friend. You continued to work long hours - but said no more late nights. You told your bosses you “had” to play ball with Mike. Somehow, the money took care of itself.

Tragedy struck a few years later. Mom, a severe diabetic, lost her leg, and then a few years later, the second leg. She fought for her life for over a year. You became her caretaker all the while taking over her role as homemaker and mom for her two younger children. You did it all. Never bitter. Always a joke, always a smile. Thanks dad.

When mom died, you carried on. Then you fought your own battle with cancer that ultimately claimed your life. It was and still is a great loss.

Dad, I wonder if you realized what a role model you were to me and how lucky I was that you were my father. Did you ever realize back then that your hard work, sense of humor, kindness, loyalty, and courage would inspire me?

Remember when I gave you those purple bell-bottoms for father's day and made you wear them to Church? I only later realized that was why we went to the 6:00 a.m. mass. But you wore them dad, so thank you.

Well, dad, did you know back then I would be a law professor and Mike would be a business professor? That three of your children would all hold advanced degrees? Nancy's two boys, the apples of your eyes, are nearly all grown up now. They play the hockey you taught them, continue to eat the “trees” (broccoli) you cooked them, and miss you more than you’ll ever know. You led by example. Thanks dad.

You were the only person I ever knew who literally stopped the car and got out to help an elderly person cross the street. You brought home homeless people for meals and picked up anyone you saw walking that appeared to need a ride, all to mom's dismay. Thanks dad.

We were the only kids I knew that had to stand in the living room when the national anthem played. I thought back then it was too extreme. Now, I thank you for instilling pride and respect and gratitude, a sense of national pride. Thanks dad.

You told me you can be anything you dream to be - provided you are willing to work hard. “Dream big,” you said and we did. Even your grandsons think they are heading to the NHL - - just like Mike thought he was going to the Red Sox, and no doubt his sons will think so also. Thanks to you, none of us lack the confidence to aim for the stars.

You required us to be nice, good neighbors. I had to volunteer as a candy striper at Burbank Hospital, my siblings were required to volunteer to help the mentally retarded. You told me we had a whole lifetime to work, that we should donate our time, our first work years, and so we did. In the end we got back more than we gave. Thanks dad.

You promoted sports. How many road races and marathons did you drive us to and from, standing often times in the rain cheering us on - - even if we were dead last! Thanks dad.

You coached so many little leagues and donated so much to the West Fitchburg Little League. Funny thing was, you always chose kids no one else wanted on their team and you always won. All of those kids still remember you today. Thanks dad.

In the end, you were the most courageous person I have ever known. You fought hard through chemotherapy and the last nine weeks of your life were so very bad. You never complained - always hoping to get to one more of your grandson’s games. Thanks dad!