Posts Tagged ‘Dads’

I dropped my daughter off at the Rhode Island airport yesterday.

On the ride, I reminisced a bit.

Said, “Reminds me of all the times Papa (my father) picked us up at this very airport.”

I continued, “Papa knew a lot of people. Whenever we were out with him there would invariably be the hearty hello or head nod to/from some random person.”

Some years ago Dad was milling about the luggage carousel looking for my bags. Think we just arrived from Dallas via Chicago.

Guy walks by, “Hey, Pat, how are ya?”

Dad responds in kind.

Rhode Island is a small state. No surprise that you would run into someone you know. Or their cousin.

Few minutes later a woman strolls by, “Hi Pat! How are you?”

Dad smiles and asks her how she’s been.

Okay, doesn’t stop there. More and more people in our path with same, “Hi Pat, how are you?”

Ummm, Dad, this is getting crazy.

Dad finally clued me in on the situation. These people were all members of an Irish society based in Rhode Island. Can’t remember now whether it was the Irish Ceilidhe Club or Ireland’s 32 Society. Or another group.

Apparently they had been on a trip (and on same flight as me) and were returning back to Rhode Island from Chicago.

Just thought it was a lovely memory. And, according to my kid, I hadn’t shared it before which is amazing in itself. Because I am kind of a broken record with my stories.

Made me remember how I felt when I would first see my father as I was coming down the escalator at the airport after months away.

How he always did the heavy lifting. Not going to let his daughter pick up the heavy bags. 🙂

Brought back the fact that everyone, who knew my Dad, had a smile when they greeted him with nothing but respect.

Made me remember that every time I left him in his later years, he said, with eyes filling, “We love to have you and we sure do hate to see you go.”

How it’s hard to arrive at the airport and no one in that crowd is eagerly and expectantly looking for you.









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I can hardly believe it is almost a year that my father left us.

I used to hear people say about their own loss,”I think about you every day.”

I thought that was really sweet but didn’t really understand it.

I understand it now.

I think about my father every single day. I have a busy life but there is not a day I don’t mention him or think about him. Especially when I look at his photo on my bedroom mirror. Sometimes I say, “Dad, still a little miffed that you left us.”

I want to call him and ask him questions. About family history or about the current U.S. elections. About the New England weather or the Patriots.

I really just wish that he was still here.

I gave him a run for his money when I was a teenager but that was then. He, bless his heart, never held it against me. That’s what makes a great father.

He was a loving grandfather and my kids will always remember him as an important person in their lives.

This past summer, my brother ran into a family friend, Johnny, who worked with my Dad. Johnny recounted a story about when he first started on the job as a young buck. He must have dismounted the truck the wrong way and my Dad yelled at him. My Dad was all about safety and has fifty years of awards to prove it.

Johnny went home to tell his own father about this guy yelling at him and his father told him, “Pat Lennon is one of the finest men you will ever meet.”

Johnny was one of the last people, besides immediate family, to spend time with my Dad in the hospital.

Johnny loved my Dad. He was with him in the end. Even though Dad yelled at him forty years ago. Dad just wanted to keep him safe.

I loved my Dad. I was with him in the end. Even though he yelled at me some thirty years ago. Dad just wanted to keep me safe.

Miss you so much, Dad.




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