Dear Dad,
According to the Jewish calendar today is the one year anniversary of your death, a night in which we recall and light a candle. A lot has happened in that time, and although the moments without you tend to stand still, I fight the clock daily in an effort to stay closer to you in time. People keep telling me it gets easier but the clock is my enemy and I hear the seconds tick like atom bombs that won't refrain.
I remember a lot about our times together as a family, and as a father and son. How can I ever forget your sense of humor, your humility, your pride, your kindness and tenderness to all living souls no matter how great or small? We are all created in gods image, and although not a religious person, you were spiritual and pious and instilled in us a value that is devoid in todays society, far and wide.
You never broke a promise to me or my brothers and with scant financial prowess made certain we seldom went without. Where there were 'things' we didn't have, we had what we needed. I remember beach trips and going far into the ocean with you, Dad, any fears allayed by the sturdy confidence in your eyes. That confidence has served me well too, dad. How can I forget finding hannukah presents under the bunk beds and the thrill in your eyes when we opened them. Your joy at our happiness was greater than ours.
I remember living above the grocery store and working weekends with you when I was merely 6 years old. You would buy a 50 pound bag of potatoes and I would weigh them into 3 and 5 pound brown bags. I still dislike touching potatoes because of my memory of the dirt on them. You would try to pay my $3 for a few hours work and I couldn't accept it, knowing it would just take away from the family.
As clear as day, I also remember you taking injured and dead animals out of the street. The injured ones got nursed back to health and the dead ones had souls and should not lay in the street to be trampled over again and again.
I remember riding on your lumbering shoulders, dad, I was never too heavy for you. I remember watching TV in bed with you, there was always room. You were proud of your boys everywhere you went, even when you had no reason to be. We were your boys!
I also remember your quirkiness. It is legendary among those that knew you and considered you a friend. I still have an 8 mm silent film of you smashing a radio with a butchers hammer wearing a blond wig! What was that about? Or how happy you were to find red leather shoes to wear at my sons Bar Mitzvah for $39 at Valu-City? Certainly the photographer had to get a picture of them. You got to wear them at the second Bar Mitzvah also. That was Jaime A. Flaks.
As your bittersweet life and times came to a close, you tried to remain positive but life was too good to dream the alternative. You were in your prime, kids grown and grandchildren blooming like flowers on a warm spring day. You devoured life from the mundane like mowing the lawn to your trips around the globe. You made friends at every port of call and were the center of attention wherever you left footprints.
Sadly, I also remember seeing you on the 29th of September last year, laying in bed at home, breathless and lifeless. It was truly the end of an era for me. The biggest giant I would ever know had fallen like a redwood. Life would change for me. My dad was gone.
I could work my whole life and never be the father you were. There was nothing in this world that lifted you like your 3 sons, nothing, until you had grandchildren. We tried hard to return the favor and like many kids, sometimes came up short. It never fazed you, you were the dad.
So tonight, I will light the candle for you, dad. Not just putting a flame to a wick, but remembering the truly great person and father that you were. Your memory is as clear to me as if I were still on your shoulders. I sense your strength, I see your eyes, I feel your breath, my father, my dad.
Johnny
09.17.2009
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