My dad is my number one fan, personal security, role model, best friend and teacher all rolled into one stocky, sweaty, loud, Italian, fifty-something-year-old.
He always has and still does, come to all of my lacrosse games, no matter how far away they may be… “I mean it’s only a four hour drive for the game, I can do it in a day”. He cheers me up when I think I did poorly, and keeps me humble when I think I did well; but I always know that when I’m on the field and look up I’ll see him standing right there cheering me on. No matter what.
Anytime we go out anywhere, and I mean anywhere, he’s right there behind me, like right behind me, with his arms crossed straight-faced like he’s my personal bodyguard. “I don’t like the way that kid was looking at you, I’m gonna say something… eyes up front son”; “DAD HES LIKE SEVEN”. His favorite line is “I’m a guy Maura, I know how guys think” and I mean how am I supposed to argue that?
My dad is the most thoughtful, hard-working, driven and family oriented guy I know. He somehow juggles three jobs and still manages to make time for me at the end of every night or the beginning of every day to talk about our lives and everything that’s happened in the past 24 hours. He never complains. Money may be tight and we’re both exhausted, working our little butts off, but he somehow always manages to remain optimistic. Don’t tell him, but I could probably learn a thing or two from him.
He’s my absolute best friend. He might drive me up a wall sometimes but when it comes down to it, he’s really the only person in my life I can talk to about anything without judgment. He will never leave me and always gives me the advice I need, not necessarily the advice I want. I can’t always appreciate it in the moment but every decision he’s ever made, no matter how annoying, was made with me in mind.
My dad has taught me more than I have ever learned in a classroom. He’s taught me how to: love, defend and stand up for myself, appreciate the little things life has to offer, and always be the bigger person. It’s possible that one of these lessons came with a personal bottle of pepper spray… “But look, it’s got a stylish little red pouch you can carry it in, no one has to know”.
I love to hate my dad’s dad jokes. “Dad I’m gonna jump in the shower real quick” is always met with “don’t jump you might slip!” “Give me one minute to change” always receives the response “don’t change I like you just the way you are”. And of course who could forget “Dad I’m tired”, “nice to meet you tired, I’m Dad”.
I love that my dad thinks that literally everything that happens to us is “family business” and that sometimes he talks like were in the mafia. He always knows just what to say to help me up when I’m down and when to say nothing at all and just hold me. I love that on Sunday mornings he’ll take me to arraignments to teach me life lessons. But mostly I just love that he’s my dad.
