My father is everything to me.
I’ve always been “Daddy’s Girl”. Most of what I enjoy doing, what I care about, what I feel that a man should be, I’ve learned from my father.
He’s always loved cars. When he was in high school, he was with a local racing club. Auto shop was one of his favorite classes. He wasn’t one of those guys that had to be in auto shop because they didn’t have the brains for any of the higher classes – he was in it because he loved it. He went to college to become a shop teacher, and taught Auto Shop in one of the New York State schools. He was very well respected as a teacher. When there were race riots at the school he taught at, and some kids came on campus that didn’t belong there, one started to move on my dad to attack him. One of the other students intervened, saying, “Don’t mess with Mr. Z, he’s cool.”
My father isn’t a big man - he’s all of 5’3". When he was a teenager, he’d get pulled over by the cops, and they often thought he was driving on a fake license. Somehow, he finally made them believe him.
He met my mother when he’d come up in the summers to visit Downsville with his family. They married when he was 23 and she was 18. He worked for Datsun in Oneonta when I was young, then bought his own service station when I was five, so he didn’t have to travel as far to go to work.
The Station ended up bankrupting him, but it was more because he put too much trust in the people who worked for him than because he wasn’t a good businessman. A couple of his employees would take parts from the parts room and not account for them - and my father ate that. He didn’t want to believe the worst in people.
He could have a temper when someone else was wronged, though. But seeing him angry – those times were few and far between.
One of the things I respect the most about my father is that he and my mother are still friends, even after the divorce. Their breakup wasn’t pretty – far from it. But, somehow, he managed to remain friends with my mother. Sometimes, I think it was a lot in part for my sister and I, but no matter the reason, he did it. And I love him all the more for it.
Whenever something has hurt me in my life, my father has been there to hold me, to advise me, to listen to me cry and, often, cry with me. Even while we’re so many miles apart. And he’s never tried to live my life for me. He’s still been there, as supportive as ever, after I’ve made my mistakes. No matter how many times I make them, he’s still there. I don’t know what I’ll do when he’s gone.
He’s the one that taught me to love racing and science fiction. He’s taught me about cars, about sports, about computers. He’s prepared me to go out in the world with the tools I needed. He’s taught me that it’s ok to show your feelings, to show that you love someone, that hugs things that are quickly passed on. My father is the most wonderful man in the world.
And I miss him every day I’m away from him.