OT: Remembrances of passed-on parents

[wire chief]

Or grandparents or siblings, for that matter.

My dad died at 57, when I was less than half the age I am now. I bring him back when I play
his favorite song, Laura ( from the 40's movie).

Sometimes while driving, I imagine him in the passenger seat while I silently get him up-to-date on some tech and social changes he missed out on.

You?

 

[VAUConnFan]

My father, despite attaining a 6th grade education, was a master mechanic, electrician, and ultimate handyman. Whenever I am lucky enough to figure out and accomplish a handyman chore exceeding my perceived ability, I find myself desirous of a nod of approval and a pat on the back from my father.

 

[ScarlettB]

My Dad was my favorite person in the whole wide world. We were both huge tennis fans. He played for his high school and college. His favorite player was Jimmy Connors and mine was Guillermo Vilas. The first professional tennis match I ever attended was the 1977 US Open final and I went with my dad. I insisted that I wanted to go to the final as I just knew Vilas would win. He wanted to go to an earlier session as he was afraid I would be disappointed. He got us tickets for the final and Vilas won. I decided to go to Wimbledon the following year and there was a rumor that Vilas was going to skip the tournament to attend the World Cup in Argentina. My dad knew i would be disappointed if Vilas wasn't playing, so he tracked down his agent and called him to make sure he would be playing, telling the man that his daughter was only planning to attend if he would be participating. I was mortified and thought he was crazy, but what a cool thing for him to do!

I recently read Jimmy Connor's book The Outsider and it really brought back memories of how I got to be a fan of tennis through my dad's love of the game. My father several died years ago, but I think of him every time I watch a match. Wimbledon is starting Monday and I will be watching and wishing my Dad could be watching with me.

 

[OneTrickPony]

My father passed away peacefully today. Born in 1923, he landed on the beaches at Normandy and had his whole tank-destroyer unit wiped out twice by heavy artillery. He picked up fluent French slogging through the countryside and liberated a Nazi concentration camp...the first time he realized what they were fighting.

His father was a doughboy in WWI, and his uncle ran the NYC Catholic School System, pastored Old St. Peter's Church a block from ground zero in Manhattan, and was the head of staff for Cardinal Spellman until he died. His mother was born of an immigrant Italian family from Milano in 1890...his great grandfather emigrated from London in the 1820's with his own 18th Century father...and married a young American woman of Irish descendance.

He graduated St. Johns and went to work in the NYC Welfare Department...he was soon carrying a 200 family case load in Harlem. He married my mother in 1950, and they were happily married until her death in 2001...a year after celebrating their 50th Anniversary. He had seven children, four boys and three girls...and he never hesitated to make whatever sacrifice was required...he was very loved and will be deeply missed.

 

[Icebear]

Blessings OTP. My thoughts are with you.

 

[RadyLady]

what a wonderful man! You and your family have my deepest sympathy

 

[UConnChapette]

OTP, I am so sorry for your loss. May the cherished memories you shared with your Dad give you comfort in this difficult time.

Sent from my Nexus 7 using Tapatalk 2

 

[DaddyChoc]

OTP condolences to you and your family!

 

[wire chief]

God bless and thanks for letting us in on a moving journey.