The seventh child in a farm family, my father, never got to see his mom. She (my grandmother) passed away as he was born. As an infant and later as a toddler he grew up on goat’s milk (“a” goat to be specific). He grew up having a special bond with the goat. When the goat passed away they buried the goat some where near the house and it became a special place for my dad. Every time we went to our ancestral village my dad would visit that spot and tell me about that special goat. If I remember correctly that was the only memory of childhood my dad could share.
I learned my geometry and algebra from my dad. For someone to have studied in a village school, under a banyan tree, it was quite amazing. Even though he could not afford to go to college he was pretty good with maths. When it was exam preparation time for us, dad would wake up in the wee hours of morning prepare hot water and tea even before waking us (we finally had electricity yet having hot water out of a faucet was still unimaginable). While we sat in heavy quilts with book in hand sipping tea, he made sure that no one dozed off. And if any one did, he would gently tap us.
He is no more, but his memories remain, and this one more so!
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This is my first father’s day without my father. He died three months ago. He was 92 and had a long life but it hurts just the same. It sounds like you had a loving father and I am happy for you to have known that. I know (from your wife’s posts) that you are a loving, involved Dad and I applaud you for that. If you want to read it, here’s my eulogy for my Dad, the photographer Jim Steinhardt: http://thesquashedbologna.blogspot.com/2010/03/goodbye-goodbye-goodbye-jim-steinhardts.html And happy Fathers Day to you.
Your dad was a treasure, maybe in spite of his experiences or maybe because of it – but he had an impact on everyone.