My father, John Golec, died in 1990 but each Father’s Day is still a special time to remember him. He was neither famous nor rich and lived an ordinary life, as most fathers do, yet as I grow older, I appreciate more and more the quiet, unassuming choices he made.
As a child I had my tonsils removed at a hospital quite far from my home. My mother stayed in the room with me for the night and I remember gazing out the window and waving goodbye to my father, who stood in the parking lot looking up at us. I was too young to realize how tired he might be because he had to take a bus back to our house (we didn’t have a car) and that he also had to get up very early the next day to be at work, yet he stayed with us until the end of visiting hours.
In elementary school both of my parents worked and in the morning I would get up with an alarm clock. Every single day there would be a cooked egg at my place on the table, which was made by my father, and a note from him telling me to have a good day.
My father spent most of his time putting in long hours at a factory. Despite his grueling work schedule, he held numerous offices in the Knights of Columbus and was involved in many charitable activities.
My father became ill at age 62 and so he never did get to enjoy retirement. He was sick for 10 years yet never railed against God for his fate. At his wake, person after person came to tell me of some good deed my father had done for him or her.
I think my father was like many other fathers who year after year work hard and try to do the right thing. I never thanked my father for everything he did when he was alive, so I can only thank him now. Perhaps others who are wiser than I will use Father’s Day to express their gratitude to a father who might seem ordinary on a day-to-day basis, but whose life, when viewed from a lifetime point of view, becomes extraordinary.
Thanks, Dad. Sorry this took so long.
