Another School Year is coming to a close.
In our house we are wrapping up the school year. We are celebrating with end of year activities and looking forward to Summer vacation. Father's Day is not too far off. On June 18th, we will be celebrating all the Dads in our life.
When I think of Dads, I think of my Dad. I remember standing in front of the card section in the store every year. I could never find any card that matched my feelings for him. My Dad was not the greatest Dad. He provided for us. As I am now an adult and a parent; providing food, shelter, and everything we needed and wanted is a big deal. I think in the end it was the best he could do. My Dad was gone alot, he cheated on my mom for years before she finally left him, he was verbally abusive, and he had a big drinking problem. He believed making money and being desired meant more than raising a family. He chose his friends, the bar, and other women over his family. I can count on my one hand in the last 10 years the conversations we had and he was sober. But, we had weekly conversations. He never remembered them, but we talked on many topics. He was unhappy in a lot of ways and happy in others. He struggled with depression, but did not think he needed help. He was always after the next money making deal. He was quite the swindler, I learned that lesson the hard way. He was complicated and so was our relationship. We love our parents, no matter how poorly they treat us. Which is why I held on so long. It's hard to break away from someone you feel obligated to, and they are dying.
My Dad died on St. Patrick's Day this year. His favorite holiday. His current wife sent me a text telling me he died. Poor taste, but it is what it is. Death brings out a person's true character, and the weeks after he died, she showed hers. Our relationship ended the day of my Dad's funeral.
Grief is a funny thing. My grief in the beginning was all anger. My grief for my Dad is still anger and sadness. I am not an angry person. I am not familiar with rage. These feelings rose out of me with strength and power. I couldn't breathe. Every memory, every feeling, I had shoved down, so I could keep a civil relationship with my Dad now set free. And it was all anger and sadness.
My Dad was buried on April 6,2023. He had a nice service. I was supported by my family, family friends, and my best friends. I wrote something and spoke at his funeral. I could breathe a little better because I went to say goodbye.
Which brings me to teachers. Two of my teachers were at my Dad's funeral. They did not know my Dad. He never participated in any of our activities. Most of my friends did not know I had a Dad. He was absent. The teachers who came to my Dad's funeral were from my middle school days. I was in middle school 30 years ago.
The two teachers who came to support me was one of the most heartwarming acts of kindness I have encountered. Karen Nadadlin, who used to be Ms. Zilch when I was in 7th grade. She is an amazing human. She loves her students. She also taught my brother. She was the teacher that let you hang out in her classroom at lunch or after school. She was the safe space. Safe space is important for an awkward,hormonal, preteen and teenager. She understood us. Some of the kids at my school did not have this safe space at home, and Karen Nadalin created it for them.
C.R. Tetlock was the other teacher who was present at my Dad's funeral. This man shaped my work ethic, awoke the athlete in me, and was a father figure. He did not tolerate my boy crazy 13 year old self. He convinced me there would be plenty of time for boys, but working on yourself is important. He challenged me to work hard, work through losses, and be the best you could be in everything you do. The drive he instilled in me still lives in my heart and is apart of who I am. He was a coach who saw my potential even before I saw it.
Good teachers see us. They see us for who we are, before we see us. Teachers do not teach for the money. They teach because they were called to it. They care about the kids they teach and their families. They want to teach life lessons to help our kids thrive in this world. They are asked to make something of nothing. They are asked to do something that has never been done (school during COVID anyone?). They show up at funerals of their student's father 30 years later.
I don't know about you, but the teachers need one hell of an end of the year gift and a fucking raise. Teachers, have an amazing Summer! You deserve it!
Happy Father's Day to all the Dad's out there, especially to the Father of my children. You show our girls everyday what a good man looks like. You are kind, gentle, and take care of us. I am forever grateful for that.
