True Gift

We all want the best for our kids, that’s why we sacrifice for them, and make every effort in preparing them for adulthood, and to get the most out of life.   We instill in them the importance of resilience, dedication, tenacity and a strong work ethic.  And while we hope our children cherish our sage advice, it isn’t so much our words of wisdom that stick with them throughout the years as it is our actions, because our actions speak so much louder.

I was cheated by not knowing my father as much as I would have liked to. I have a brother and sister who demanded a lot of my old man’s attention, he worked two jobs and he died on my 8th birthday.   The few memories I do have, (of him and us) I hold close to my heart, and they play vividly and crystal clear on the silver screen in my mind’s eye. Every raspy curse he’d let loose getting my older brother in line, every whiff of smoke that soared from his ashtray as I colored pictures for him sitting at the end table by the couch and every time, I would wake up hearing him watch the million-dollar in the living room.  Those times were the best, because I would pretend that I had to go to the bathroom so I could talk to him for a few minutes. 

One night he threw me on his lap, and I watched a movie with him.  I had an operation on my eye and had to wear an eye-patch in order to strengthen the eye I had surgery on.  I hated wearing it because the kids in school teased me, calling me a pirate.  My dad told me to watch the man on TV because he wore an eye-patch like me and he was a US Marshall.  I always wondered if my dad knew that I was faking going to the bathroom in order to see him, I’d like to hope that he did.

He was my hero, and I always wanted to be like him, determined, resilient, tenacious and he had the strongest work ethic I have ever seen.  Whenever hard times fell upon me, I would use his memory for inspiration to help me with whatever I was going through.  And even though we didn’t have many conversations, I still learned a lot from my dad, just by watching him. 

These days, I sit back and reflect on all Dante has endured in his short life, it pains me while at the same time I smirk with great pride.  Dante went through his parents divorcing and had to adjust to new living conditions and school closings during COVID.  He then was admitted to a hospital room for 23 straight days, until a bed at a group home was made available to him.  The stay at the group home was supposed to be for three months until he would be admitted to a neurobehavioral facility.  After 17 months of advocating for Dante, he finally left the group home. 

For someone like Dante, who can’t communicate and becomes overanxious with the unknown and unfamiliar, I imagine that the past five years have been a living hell for him.  I am not being dramatic in the least, a literal, unpredictable, unforgiving living hell my boy has endured.  Yet through it all, Dante has persevered.  And I’d like to think, if Dante could speak fluently, he wouldn’t complain over the atrocities he has endured. 

Since day one, I preached the importance of resilience, dedication, tenacity and a strong work ethic to Dante, and it is evident that he heard me, and maybe watched me too.  And through the years, Dante taught me patience, acceptance, understanding, and tolerance, without uttering a word.  I love him for that.