Dad, you have showed me that one person is capable of displaying an immense amount of patience and love.  Patience is something I struggle with each day with Olivia and Miles and I often think back and wonder how you did it.  I recall one late evening when I was around nine years old, I was lying in bed have tremendous anxiety over my clarinet.  I had just started playing it at school and we were required to take it apart and reassemble it.  I was crying to myself, agonizing over the fact that I could not do this and I would be an utter failure.  My Father, on his way to bed, heard my muffled cries from my bedroom.  You came in and took the time to walk me through the steps right there at midnight in the middle of my room.  There was no sense of urgency in your voice or actions that it was late and you needed to go to bed.  You took however long it would take to make sure I was comfortable in what ever it was I was anxious about.

I remember endless evenings of tears and long division at the kitchen table and you maintained your quiet yet comforting demeanor.  I think of myself as a parent today and how quick I am to brush off Olivia when she is freaking out over what I consider to be a minor problem.  But I should remember the time you took for me and how much I appreciated it.  These minor issues to an adult were tremendous to a child and I’m not sure how I would have coped if I didn’t have you to listen and walk me through things.

You were the Dad who always volunteered to be a parent driver on field trips and don’t think I forgot how you survived an entire roundtrip journey to the Hershey Chocolate Factory in Oakdale listening to the New Kids on the Block CD on repeat while six third grade girls squealed in delight.  Not once did I hear you groan or gripe.

You were never one to ever be truly upset but we knew in your face when you were disappointed.  The day I received two traffic tickets within twenty minutes of each other, I knew I would have rather been banished then to see the look of disappointment on your face and I was right.  You said maybe a total of ten words and it was enough to make me feel like the smallest person on the planet.  I must learn how to do this because I talk myself silly trying to get a point across to Liv.

To the Dad who taught me the art of teasing and the importance of always maintaining a full tank in your car (just in case of emergencies), have a most happiest of happy Father’s day and of course, I love you.