A Happy Belated Father’s Day to my Father In Law

Let me tell you about my Father in Law, since it’s Father’s Day and all.

He never visited my house without bringing large pack of water with him, bread, and other things for our house. In all the years I knew him, not once was his adversarial to me and he always tried to proffer me good advice. There was a period when he was without a car and I’d drive him home from Staten Island to uptown NYC each Sunday and we’d wax poetic about the world, listen to music, and laugh all the way to his home. He was generous and kind, even though he didn’t have much. He was a NYC taxi driver and would give me his last dollar if I asked for it. He was not my Father, but he acted like one and I loved him as if he was my own.

The whole family dined in Cape May, NJ in the summer of 2018 and he got lost trying to exit the restaurant. That’s when we knew something was wrong. After he was diagnosed with incurable brain cancer, I was stunned. The only time I ever saw him cry or complain was when he received the news. Through tears, with his wife and my wife holding him, he said “why me” and that was the only time he lamented. Over the next year, I drove him to the local hospital and accompanied him to radiation and chemo treatments. Each morning I’d make him a keto friendly breakfast, eggs and meats, because we had read that keto diets helped stave off cancer. We did this religiously for a year and during that time he endured two brain surgeries to remove the tumors growing inside him.

He never complained or showed fear and I sometimes wondered if he understood the stakes.

He was the type of man who came to my house, woke up the next morning before anyone was awake, and went to the store to buy fresh bread for the house and then spent the rest of the day sorting out my garage. He loved his daughter and his grandchildren and was proud of all of them and loved them all and showed it. He was masculine yet kind and I miss him.

He died in early 2020 just before the COVID bonanza and I think about him often. I miss our laughs over beers, watching the games, and seeing him watch my children play in the yard. For him, it was probably the best of times cut short by a random and unfortunate ailment. But his memories remain with me and his grandchildren and there is something important in that.