I just spent about an hour writing about my dad. I typed about how good life was for my family
during my childhood. I wrote how proud
Dad was as my brother and I both graduated college and started our own
lives. I conveyed how life got tougher
as my mom got sick and died and then five years later, my brother also passed
away. And then I stopped…read what I
wrote…and I couldn’t write more. I was
writing as if my dad was no longer here.
But he’s alive and well in Florida, living the retired life with my
step-mom and with good friends close by.
I just visited him last week and I know he’s doing well.
The point of sharing this here in this blog is, frankly, to wish him a
Happy 79th Birthday today (March 12). (Yep, I forgot to send him a card). The second is to introduce my dad as someone
who’s been touched deeply by melanoma.
My dad is an amazing guy. He’s
done so many cool things that have inspired me.
Little things like taking care of the local park grounds when no one
else would, despite never being asked to do so.
Like driving around the neighborhood replacing remove heavy manhole
covers that prankster teenagers removed the night before. Like shoveling snow off of a neighbor’s
driveway because he was the first out there doing so. Like working on his ink drawings as hard as
he worked on his drafting projects because drawing helped him cope and
relax. Very little things that Dad did
made huge impressions on both me and my brother. And he continues to be as impressive.
When Jeff was diagnosed with Stage 4 metastatic melanoma, Dad traveled
the 3 hours between his home in West Virginia and Jeff’s home in Ohio many
times. During Jeff’s last weeks, Dad
stayed there constantly. He knew what
was going on with Jeff. Dad had seen what
cancer can do when he watched my mom fight lung cancer during her last
year. It was not an easy time for Dad…and
the scars will last for the rest of his life.
His scars from melanoma are not from a surgical knife, but they run just
as deeply.
Dad’s doing well. He misses my
mom. He misses Jeff. I saw him tear up during a touching feel-good
commercial while watching TV. I do the
same thing as such ads bring up deep emotions mores than they used to.
But I know he’s as happy as he can possibly be now (even with the “Estep
Temper” we both share). And that makes
me happy. I have the deepest
appreciation and gratitude for the dad I have…and I hope to one day, even as I’m
50 years old now, to grow up to be just like him.
Happy Birthday Dad!
I wrote a little more about my
dad back in 2006 when he wrote a memoir of his youth called, “Growing up in a Nitro.” You can check out the blog here...you'll have to scroll down past the post titled "Happy Alloween"...which turns out to be a pretty neat tribute to my brother as well, so you might as well read it, too!
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