Sadness.  And shock.  Tim Russert, gone at the age of 58 of a heart attack.

Four years ago, Russert wrote a book about his relationship with his father.  I remember hearing an interview with him on the radio and being struck by the love that came through his words as he spoke about this man that had meant so much to him.  I remember thinking, at the time, how wonderful it was that he had taken the time to do something that often is left undone, to say the things that are often left unsaid.  His book, his words, his love for his father reminded me to be grateful for my relationship with mine.

Russert’s book was released in May of 2004, just in time for Father’s Day that year. The book was such a hit that it gave birth to a second book, a compilation of stories sent to him from sons and daughters about their relationships with their dads.  The pages are filled with remarkable remembrances, remarkable in that they are so ordinary and yet extraordinary at the same time.  In writing his own memoir, Russert opened the door for others to look at their relationship with their father as well.

A year ago, in celebration of Father’s Day, I wrote this essay for my father.  We had just found out that he had been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s Disease, a debilitating disease that affects the body’s neuromuscular system.  I wrote the piece and sent it to Dad.  My sister, who was there at the time, took this picture of him as he read the piece on the deck of my parents home that morning.  Less than a month later, I was reading that essay at his memorial.

 

It was the perfect father-son caper, born out of years of planning and scheming.  Both avid sports fans, their lives had been filled doing the classic father-son things, playing baseball, watching football games together, and when hockey came to town, cheering for the Sharks.

On a cool day in April, they put the plan in motion.  The dad strapped a large, slimy and very dead shark wrapped in plastic, to his back.  The son served as the decoy.  Who would suspect any mischief as they son smuggled the smelly creature into the Sharks-Detroit playoff series.  As the home team scored, the dynamic duo launched the shark onto the ice to punctuate the cheers of the crowd.  It was truly a clandestine act, one that further cemented this father-son relationship and gave fun fodder for many stories in the years to come.  

I always thought I wanted a dad like that.  A playful, silly, throw the ball in the yard type of dad.  The kind of dad that taught you how to ride a bike or took you fishing or taught you how to play poker and let you sit in with his buddies.  But that wasn’t my dad’s thing.

Dad worked hard and he worked a lot.  In an international business for most of his working life, he spent a lot of time on planes and in hotels and at meetings.  He ran for public office and served many, many terms dedicated to the improvement of the county we lived in.  He sat on the local school board and was responsible for the creation of the first successful state lottery.   He was our rock; the solid, dependable, foundation of the house that was our family.   

He was a serious dad, a proud dad, a hard working dad.  He was the kind of dad that people came up to talk about.  “You must be so proud of your Dad,” they would say.  And we were.

My kids think he’s funny.  “Grandpa’s so funny,” they comment when they see him.

“Grandpa?” I ask.  He never struck me as funny as a dad.

But of course, that’s what makes relationships intriguing.   They love him for who he is, never wanting something more or less or different.  And time is the greatest gift.  Now, with kids of my own, I am more able to appreciate the father he was and the man he is.  

So thanks Dad.  Thanks for working all those long hours, for putting me through college.  Thanks for standing up for me and for being tough, especially when I needed it.  Thanks for always being our rock.  Without a solid foundation, there is no house.

Russert’s work reminds us to ask the questions. To honor those who have
come before us. To be in the present.   To say thanks to those who have
loved us, while they are still with us.

In honor of Father’s Day, won’t you share a word or two about your Dad?