Though my father passed away eleven years ago this month, I still celebrate Father’s day. To my siblings and I, he deserved more than anyone to don the tee shirt, drink coffee from the mug and wear the cap that stated the underestimated cliche’ “WORLD’S GREATEST DAD”. And I could surely list for you in my little blog, accolade after tender accolade of the man we were blessed and privileged to call dad. But instead I have a short little story of a day in June of 1999 to share.
Craig (my husband) and I had been going through a rather rough patch on the road of life. Pots holes of painful discouragements were driving us crazy not to mention road blocks and detours that had us reeling. We decided one day, spur of the moment, to phone a motel out to the Hamptons (on Long Island) and make a reservation to stay for the weekend. What I failed to realize after I made the reservation was that it was the weekend of Fathers day.
I called back the motel but they refused to refund our money. Foolishly I had paid the full amount for the weekend (exorbitant by the way) and was torn between canceling the reservation or not. Craig, even more than I, desperately needed some time away making the decision that much more difficult. I reasoned with myself the fact that I was a great daughter never missing a Fathers day with my dad in my life. We saw each other every other week at least and were extremely close since I was a little girl.
Finally convincing myself it was OK to go away that weekend, I got up the nerve and called my dad the Thursday before Fathers day to explain the situation. What he told me only cemented my vote for him as Greatest Dad in The World.
He said “Sweetheart have a great weekend in the Hamptons. That will make me more happy knowing you’re getting away and enjoying yourself. And if you are able and not too exhausted from your weekend away, come see me on the following Monday. But don’t worry and please enjoy yourself!”
So hesitantly I left on that Friday as we headed to the motel in the Hamptons. Let me just say one thing about our little excursion and not belabor the point. It was a “getaway from hell”. By Saturday night, without getting into the details, neither one of us wanted to spend another hour there much less another night. So we left the Hamptons and were home by 10:00 on Saturday night.
On Sunday I realized it was Fathers day! I felt like Ebenezer Scrooge waking up and finding out it was Christmas day and he didn’t miss it. We surprised my dad that day who was not expecting us. Though he had told us to go to the Hamptons and enjoy ourselves I could plainly see he was thrilled we were there celebrating the day with him.
You may be wondering at this point what is so amazing about my story. Well just a minute, I haven’t got to the amazing though bittersweet part yet. You see the next morning as I was getting ready for work I received a phone call from my mom.
“Your father has been rushed to the hospital.” she told me through her tears.
My 85 year old father had a heart attack. Craig and I immediately drove to the hospital to join my mom and siblings who waited there as the doctors did what they could do.
My father lay unconscious that morning in his hospital bed surrounded by several doctors. I prayed with him and told him how much I loved him then asked him if he had heard me. When he squeezed my hand tightly I knew that he had been praying along with me. I was sure of it. Then about an hour or so later he passed away. Like he predicted the Thursday before, I did see him the following Monday after Father’s day. But I still thank God to this day that I got to see him the day before and thank Him also for the “getaway from Hell”.
So before you complain and cry over plans gone awry or if something in your life hasn’t gone as planned, remember it may just be God working things out their best for you (and I). Despite ourselves.
So dad if you can hear me from Heaven I just want to say “Happy Father’s Day” and tell you I love you more than ever! Oh! I know you heard me. I just felt my heart being squeezed. Like I always do this time of year.
Carla Procida
Long Story Short 