The Common Thread Linking All Fathers

My father looked like Omar Sharif.

He was over-protective; I wanted my space. He was strict; I wanted him to be a little lenient. Whenever his birthday came around, and I would ask him what he would like for me to get him, he would reply: "You've given me more than I had ever hoped [for]."      

He was my Super Hero. When I was 13 years old, and alone in the house after school, the phone rang. Naive, I was not prepped on what to say to strangers. The caller asked me if I was John's daughter and I answered 'yes.' He wanted to know when my dad would be getting home, and innocently, I answered. He then told me that he was coming over because he wanted to meet me! Nervously and trembling, I hung up quickly, and immediately dialed my dad. I was crying, as I twisted the phone cord between my fingers. I felt relief as soon as I heard my dad tell me, "I'm leaving now. I'm coming home."

For those of you who remember traveling on the F train, dad got on at Jay Street and traveled to Church Ave. His workplace and our home were not close!! Perhaps, 40 minutes had passed. As soon as I heard his voice, I ran to his open arms and he held me so tightly. Still, today, remembering this moment, I feel a sense of security and love.     

My dad was very understanding and kind. He befriended many. He would give the shirt off his back to someone, when he sensed, they needed it. He would borrow from Peter, so as to give Paul the loan he needed. He was calm and I never heard him raise his voice, however, I did see his "aggressive eye." If he felt someone was leering at mom, sissy or at me, his aggressive eye would surface, and that person knew darn well, that he should walk away, and quickly! If anyone attempted to hurt his family, or enter his home uninvited, I knew in my heart that he would, without a doubt, kill them. Because I knew this, I felt safe.     

I didn't think Susan's father (she was my BFF) was the same as my dad. I felt my father was the way he was, because of his European upbringing, and because he had fought the Nazis in WW2.  (I mean, war has got to make you a little crazy, right?) At that time, I thought it was a "Greek thing."  I did not know it was a "Father-thing"...which takes us to Texas and yesterday's news story.    

A father beat to death the alleged attacker of his 4 year old daughter. After hearing her screams, he ran to her, found the man and pummeled him to death. Like many other parents, I understand the father's rage. I understand the father's protective role. Our children are our most cherished angels... small and helpless! This father did not want to see his daughter's tears. He did not want to hear her screams for help. He knew he had one thing to do, and he did it. He was not thinking rationally, at that moment. He was thinking, "OMG! My little girl!!" I would like to think, that the jury finds him guilty of only ONE thing...of LOVING his child.    

Fathers are HEROES! They PROTECT US. They give us the sense of SAFETY and SECURITY. They are whom we run to, when we are afraid.  On Sunday, I would like for you to remember your dad, if he has passed and think of all those special moments you shared together...just the 2 of you! If you are fortunate to still have your father, give him a big kiss and hug (that's right!!! even if you are a man!!) and tell him that you love him. I wish my dad were still here...I guess he is, though. He lives in my heart forever. "I love you, daddy!"                                        

Peace