OT - Father's Day & The Need To Keep Short Accounts

I had a very good Father's Day and I hope the rest of you who are fathers were able to enjoy the day. Those who are fortunate enough to still have your fathers with you, I hope you were able to honor them as well.

Unfortunately, a friend of mine lost his son yesterday, on Father's Day morning. The family was able to be with Kenny as he passed. I hope that helps with the loss but I am afraid that Father's Day will be forever marked by that loss.

When I received notification (1972) that I was being sent to off to serve in Southeast Asia as part of the Vietnam War, I went home for awhile to be with my family. As it came time to leave, my Dad drove me from Chesterfield County, Virginia up to McGuire Air Force Base in New Jersey. Along the way, I struggled with the thought of telling my Dad that I loved him. I was the one going off to war but the whole idea of saying "I love you" to him seemed overly melodramatic did not set well with me, Besides, "real" men don't talk that way. However, internally, I was being nudged to say it. At the last moment, as I was getting ready to walk from the gate out onto tarmac to board the plane, I did turn to him and said those words to him. They were the last words we ever exchanged face to face,

My assignment in Southeast Asia was at a U-Tapao Royal Thai Navy Airfield, Thailand where the U.S. Air Force flew B52s in support of the ground operations in Vietnam. That was probably the safest place to serve in all of that conflict. When I got notified by the Red Cross that my Dad had been badly injured in an accident, I thought my old Army sergeant dad was pulling some under the counter deal to get me home for my sister's wedding. It was not until I got to San Francisco that I was able to call home that I found out my Dad (who had been in combat in World War II and the Korean War) had been hit by a car and killed while working along the side of the road.

The point of this story is to keep short accounts with those that really matter to you. I still miss my Dad. He was a very imperfect man but he was still my Dad, my first hero. If I had kept from letting him know that I loved him, my sorrow would be greater. Let those you care about know that you do.