Just about a month prior at a retirement luncheon, there I sat. My father was being lauded by several of his colleagues and close friends for 36 years of service working as a contracting officer for the United States Navy. It was a unique experience to hear so many pay such high tribute to my Dad; and one that surely made him uncomfortable. While my father certainly never shied away from being social, he never craved to be the center of attention, either. Yet, there he was, smack in the middle of a spotlight.
As I sat at the table across from him, I marveled at how much affection people outside of my family had for my father. I know what he meant to us, but I never grasped the lasting effect he had on so many others. Though all the adoration may have been unnerving, it was a great way for my Dad to know that so many people cared about him. He had made an impact in life and he needed to know that.
Sadly, in late April, my father passed away unexpectedly just a month removed from that special occasion. I had spent the better part of the day before with him. We talked about the latest episode of Modern Family, the Boston bombings, recent beers we had tried, and moaned about the Phillies. Some people aren’t tight with their family, but my Dad and I were close. Best friends. My two younger sisters were famous for saying, “You are your father’s son.” Besides stating the obvious, it was a badge of honor. If I could be half the person my Dad was, I would be pretty freaking amazing. He was an attorney, one of the smartest people you’d ever meet, a loyal family man, tremendous friend, and compassionate coach who always put others first.
Saying my father loved to travel is an understatement. He was practically a human Frommer’s guide. He knew all the best places in any city and, when it came to having a good time, he’d just as soon show you rather than tell you. When I was younger, he would also travel a lot for work and, because my mother is a teacher and my sisters and I were off for the summer, we’d often tag along. On a trip to California, we visited one of his friends and I spent the evening mesmerized by their VHS copy of Back to the Future. The next day, he took me to Venice Beach to buy a skateboard. I’ll never forget that thing; I lugged it on the plane with pride and couldn’t wait to get back to the East Coast to show them how “California cool” I had become. Years later, along with one of my friends and his father, we would sit a few yards away from the end zone at the Rose Bowl. We didn’t even like college football, but my Dad was all about embracing the experiences in life.
Having been all over the country, from Haddonfield to Hawaii, my Dad made it a point to bring us kids on these trips. He wanted us to be cultured and well-rounded, to learn about the stuff they don’t teach you in school and be better prepared for life ahead. It was just another example of what a great father he truly was. He may have died young at 57, but my Dad never got cheated when it came to his life. Too short? Yes. But unfulfilled? Never. I could take up the rest of the year sharing all the wonderful stories I have, and I’m certainly not alone.
Even after I moved out of the house and eventually got married, I’d still call my parents almost every day to talk. Often, my father would answer the phone and say something to my Mom like, “Marie, the boy’s on the phone.”
Well, if I could call him now, I’d tell him we all miss him and Happy Father’s Day from the “boy.” I’m sorry I put you back in the spotlight, but you deserve it.
Kind regards,
Peter J. Proko
Editor-in-Chief
Published (and copyrighted) in South Jersey Magazine, Volume 10, Issue 3 (June, 2013).
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