In the Presence of Our Fathers
In the presence of our fathers, we grow to be strong. We learn discipline. Integrity.
In the presence of our fathers, we begin to set the course of our character and live in the freedom that the safety of his protection provides.
If you’re a boy, he is your first example of what a man should be.
If you’re a girl, he is your first love. He sets the standard against which all other men will be judged.
This is how it’s supposed to be.
When I was almost seven years old, my father was in a horrific car accident on his way home from work one night. He had a severe head injury, broken bones, and was given so much penicillin that it nearly killed him.
As an adult, I’ve often wondered how different my life would have been had he not survived.
I don’t think it ever dawned on me then that he could die, that we might grow up without him. There were six of us kids ranging in age from newborn to eleven years old. My youngest siblings would probably not have even remembered him.
I don’t remember how many months he was in the hospital, but I do remember being in the parking lot waving up to him as he looked out his hospital window. Back then, they didn’t allow children to visit.
He was home before my First Communion on my seven and a half birthday, but was still confined to his bed. He’s not in any of my First Communion pictures.
A friend of mine at work recently told me that he was barely in school when his father died. The youngest of seven or eight children, life was tough. He describes his life growing up as a big puzzle with lots of pieces missing.
Pieces about how to be a man in this world. Maybe even pieces about how to be a father. It was a devastating loss.
When a good father is missing from your life–whether it be from death, abandonment, or from him failing miserably to live up to his responsibility–it leaves a big hole. I’ve seen many people in this situation try to fill that void with food, sex, money, drugs, alcohol…the list goes on.
When I meet someone who struggles because of the absence or severe shortcomings of a father, I feel so sad and it makes me appreciate my dad so much more.
The way that he lived his life is precisely what made him such a good father. He didn’t just teach us what he thought we needed to know, he showed us. He “lived” who he wanted us to become.
A father’s influence often seems to be minimized. My dad even minimized it himself. He’d say that mom was the glue that held our family together, that she was the reason we had such a wonderful family life. And that’s partly true. But I know that without him going to work every day and living up to his responsibility as a father, it wouldn’t have been that way.
He provided us with a place to live in a safe environment, food and clothes. We were warm in the winter.
He made sure we went to church, that we were around people of good character.
My dad was a good father because of who he was, not because of who I was.
If you lost your father or had an abusive father, that too was not because of who you were.
In other words, it’s not your fault.
And I’m so sorry.
I know what the extra fifty years I got to spend with my dad has meant to me. How he was there for me. How he was still setting an example for me. How I could talk to him about anything and he would listen. How we shared books of favorite authors and how he shared music he loved with me when I visited.
It gave me time as I got older, to have my questions answered because at seven, I had no idea of all the questions I would have for him over the next half century.
I know how rich my life was because he lived.
I know how rich my life still is because he lived.
I have spent my whole life so far feeling loved and what could be better than that?
There’s nothing that can make up for a loss of the childhood you should have had. Even years or decades later. Filling the void with hurtful things only prolongs the pain.
Life can be full of richness and beauty. Find a grief counselor if you need one. Years ago, no one thought of grief counseling for the children. It was usually swept under the rug along with the debris of the day.
Work through your pain to understanding and acceptance. Share your experience if you can.
Life is a growth process. Learn what you can from your experience, and find a way to move forward.
And speaking for those of us who have not experienced this kind of loss, I can never really know how you feel or the many ways it has affected your life, but I’m always willing to listen.
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I believe our older brother said he was in the hospital for 8 months. And that he came home earlier than the doctors wanted him to, he missed his family. I also remember going to the hospital and looking up at all those windows. I also remember that I could never find him no matter how hard I tried. But, I was only 5 at the time.
When I was in 6th or 7th grade I came up with what I thought was the perfect plan to end the war in Vietnam. I told Dad about it. We sat down with a world map as I explained to him how it could be done. He sat there patiently listening to what I had to say. Never once did he indicate that I was too young to understand. He didn’t snicker, nor did he tell me it wouldn’t work. Instead, he asked questions, and he answered questions. We discussed it seriously. He even suggested that I write the President.
I guess what I’m trying to say is a lesser man would have dismissed me, would have made me feel like a “dumb kid”. This is just one in a thousand examples of the love and strength our father showed us.
That’s what I mean. I always felt like he made each of us feel like we were his favorite in some way. I loved him so for that. By the way, did you ever write the President?
I tried. I remember struggling to write what my mind visualized. I just couldn’t put the words together in a way that would explain what I saw in my head. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t. I don’t think Nixon would have been as kind as our father. Hahahaha
You’re probably right!
Throughout my childhood, Dad used to take me Christmas shopping for my siblings (when there was money to spare). Although I appreciated the privilege and our time spent together at The Southgate Plaza or Seneca Mall, I never knew why he took me specially for these shopping excursions. Years later, during a chat in front of the fireplace at 274, I happened to bring it up and ask him about it. He told me it was because when he finally came home from the hospital, that I was the first kid to break ranks and run up to greet him by clutching on to his leg, and how much it had meant to him. I was only 2ish, and certainly didn’t understand what he had been through. Marcie was probably too young to even walk, and the older sibs probably held back knowing he was still very frail. So, I kind of won by default, and he never mentioned anything about it to me. He just kindly and quietly rewarded the gesture that he appreciated so much. He was a great father!
I never knew this…how amazing! What a wonderful and special thing it must have been for him that he rewarded you in such a sweet way. That made me cry a little.
You guys got the Christmas gifts and I got the shopping time with Dad all to myself so, in reality, we all got rewarded!
I guess we all lucked out on that one!
This is such a beautiful tribute about your father! Most everything you say about your dad applies to my daddy too. I too was so fortunate to have my daddy for 51 years of my life. I learned many life lessons from my daddy and there is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about my daddy. I so remember when we could not go in the hospital like you said as children. I think my little local hospital would not let any child in under 12 years of age. My daddy had gall bladder surgery when I was 6 years old. Back then that was major surgery being cut open from one side to another. He was in the hospital for a week. The hospital in Blakely was and still is one level with windows on the front that opened wide open. My sister took me to the hospital and I remember crawling in the window and laying in bed with daddy watching tv. I missed him. Dr. Crowdis came in to check on him and just laughed out loud and shook his head. Now that is a vivid memory just like it happened yesterday. My daddy was a smart man, a hard worker owning his own funeral home, a kind Christian man and deacon in the church, a great provider, told funny jokes and loved to play cards and dominos. He played solitaire on a lap board up until the last 6 months of his life everyday. I have his last deck of cards he played with and treasure them very much. Carol, thank you so much for your beautiful writing and tribute about your dad. Sounds like we both had wonderful fathers.
We both lucked out when they handed out the parents and siblings, didn’t we? I love that your sister helped you to visit your dad in the hospital, the two of you just chillin’ watching TV. How perfect!
When I was talking to my friend at work about him losing his dad when he was five or so, I just felt the substance of all the lessons, talks, joy shared, meals shared, all the fun stuff and scary stuff, the charitable stuff, and even just sitting quietly together in the kitchen enjoying a fire, and I wondered–who would I be without all of that? How would I have made my way through the world and made any kind of sense of it had it not been for the family I had, for the experiences I’d had with each and every one of them? I have no idea what it would have been like had we lost dad, but I do know what someone who had to grow up without a dad missed out on. It’s breaks my heart just to think about it.
Your dad was a great dad to you and a great uncle to me and my siblings. He was the go-to guy for any construction, mechanical, or repair project, and he taught me lots of valuable things. He was Mr. HowStuffWorks before there was a How Stuff Works.
Yes he was! He just knew all kinds of things about all kinds of things!
your answer to how different life would have been with out Pops is this…. You would have grown up listening to Uncle John (his real name) snore, we would have needed 2 cars to go to church, your older brother would be in an insane asylum from an overdose of estrogen, just to mention a few differences. Being as young as you were, to me anyway, ALL and I mean ALL of you girls seemed to be having the time of your lives. Being 11 and the oldest of what seemed to be 100 kids (at least 3 in diapers) to me it was semi organized madness. How Aunt Penny kept up with getting kids up for school, making lunches, chasing kids thru the house, making dinner, etc etc (such a saint) I remember crying to Mom (yes I did cry, real tears even) to let me stay at Eddy K’s house. the answer was “how would Aunt Penny do all this with out your help”.
When I think back 11 or 12 kids all but 1 under the age of 8 and 3 adults. I cant imagine how we all made it thru that and grew up “normal”. I wasn’t a happy camper then, but I wouldn’t trade it now for all the sweet tea in Georgia.
Me either! And I think I’ll call Aunt Penny this weekend to thank her! I’ve been wanting to call for a while just because I love her! ❤️❤️❤️
Curious – what year did u make 1st Communion? I remember Penny Dooley telling me about the accident and afterward when Art came home, we were sitting at the table talking about it. Your family had a smallish station wagon – maybe it was the smallest, least expensive one that Ford made. After that accident, your folks (probably your mom insisting) decided ‘small and affordable’ wasn’t going to be a transport decision method they’d use again. Art said that he felt as though he was floating inside that teeny space after the impact, while never mentioning all the injuries he suffered.
He had his accident in November or maybe December of 1963 (Marcie was born on November 25th of that year). He came home shortly before my First Communion which was on May 17th 1964. Yeah, dad wasn’t much of one to talk about it, but apparently it was pretty horrific. And then they gave him penicillin in the hospital which he was allergic to, so that didn’t help either.
The Dooleys stayed at our house if I’m not mistaken, and Aunt Penny kept everything going-God bless her! I wish I remembered more details, and I’m always glad when someone can give me some insight…thanks!
Love you…c