To Daddy with Love

October 21, 2010 will be the 5th year anniversary of my father's passing on to a greater place, a place of peace, and with out pain, where he could get a good spot to look down on me. I remember that day as if it were this morning, it was so quiet, and peaceful, I could feel his spirit slipping away in the mist of that dark, early morning.   A few of us sat vidual at his bedside as we shared our love for him, remembering the silly stories that he would tell us, we waited with him for that final moment when he would finally be at peace with God.   In my heart I knew the end was near, and I didn't want my Dad to slip away alone, because he used to say, he was always afraid that he was going to die alone, and I promised him that I would never let that happen him. 

    When I arrived in this world, as a tiny newborn baby daughter, he fell in love with me unconditionally, and never ending.  I was the sparkle in his eyes, he held my tiny little hand thinking of new hopes, and dreams for better things to come. So I wanted to hold his hand when he left, just so he would know, that he, was the light in me, and that it would never go out, because his spirit, would always be with me.  As he took his last breath, he peacefully went holding my hand, leaving me to know I had truly handed him over to God, trusting he was never going to hurt, or feel alone again.


    I need to tell you that, I grew up with out my Dad, because he, and my Mother couldn't seem to ever get along, and he could no longer take the fighting and battles that constantly plagued his world. Shattered and broken, he chose to go back in the military and leave his life behind him.  He was a soldier in the 182nd Air born Division of the Army, where he served out his term and then worked as a mercenary for some years to come. He was brave, strong, handsome, funny, yet a quiet solitude type person who enjoyed reading and being a peaceful homebody,and would rather jump from planes and half kill himself then live with a woman who wanted to control every part of his life. Our home was anything but peaceful, and after being there for as long as I was, I can fully understand why he left.



He never turned back, or contacted us personally, because he just couldn't deal with the guilt of walking away and leaving us all behind.     
    The last time I had remembered seeing my Dad, was as a small 3 year old child, it was the day he came to spring me from, Father Bakers Children's Home, I remember running down that long hall way, when I caught glimpse of him, my little legs couldn't run fast enough, I remember leaping into his open loving arms. He had a big smile, and his hugs and kisses washed away all my pains of the cold, and lonely stay in that horrible place. He was my hero, my Knight in Shinning Armor, on a big white horse, and he had finally arrived to rescue me from my captivity, and even in his absence that's how I saw him for the rest of my life.


     My heart broke in a million peaces the day he left and my life would never be the same. I never stopped loving or missing him, I had a hole that couldn't be filled or consoled.  I would see him often in my dreams, I was always waiting and wanting him to come home again, I would see him walking across the streets, in my dreams, and I would wake up crying, saying Daddy please, please wait for me, and he would always tell me; I can't your mother won't let me, you have to ask her first, I would run to ask her, and when I would return he would be so far away that I couldn't catch up, then he would just disappear.  I would often sit and think how different my life would have been if only he was there for me, or maybe my brothers wouldn't have been filled with such anger and hurt. I also wish they would not have listened to the ugly stories my mother would tell of him, stories that were so hateful, and full of lies, that it turned all their hearts into stone where he was concerned. Maybe we wouldn't have been so abused and lost, perhaps our lives wouldn't have been so dysfunctional, always filled with bitterness, turmoil, and continuous drama.

Dad kept contacts secretly with my grandmother, who would monitor our lives for him, he would send a weekly allowance, and gifts to us at Christmas, but only through our grand parents, never letting on that it was from him. Grandmother kept his secret for years, and wrote him often of our lives, and never told any of us the truth. She would do anything for us just to stay in contact and would make reports back to dad. Until one day one of my brothers went snooping for the truth. By this time we were grown and Grandmother thought, what would it matter now?  She didn't think my brother, the one with the tenacity of a bull dog, would do anything with the information, so she showed him letters from Dad, but I guess she totally underestimated my sibling and thus,the search was on.





    I waited every day of my life for 35 years for his return, and then one day I came home from work to find a message on my answering machine, I'll never forget the words; " Hello Colette, this is your Dad, I was told you have been looking for me, I know it's been a long time but I need you to know, I have never stopped loving you." When I realized what was happening, my heart began to explode with excitement and joy, that I can't even begin to explain. I listened to the message over and over, could this be true, is this the real deal here? Then I began to cry, why did I stop at the store before coming home? I can't believe I missed the call, will he ever call again?  I began to pray to God, please Lord, have him contact me again, God is so good and he did answer my prayers,  just a few short days later Dad called again, I was there to take the call, and it was what seemed, the greatest day of my life, especially when Dad and I agreed to meet. With in a couple of weeks I took a flight to Nevada where he was living, and finally came face to face with my MIA Dad.  We both were very nervous at first, and somehow I needed to break through all the years we had lost with each other, so I took a deep breath and I told my Dad there is just two things I need to say, as he held his breath for a moment, I spoke..., first Daddy, I need you to know, "I forgive you for leaving that day, and I need to know, is there room in your life for me now?" Greatly relieved, Dad burst into tears and hugged me for all it was worth and said, you betcha kiddo!
   We spent the next 3 glorious days together, sharing each others lives, we were trying to fit 35 years of  the past, and building new memories all our own, and for the first time, the hole in my heart was beginning to heal and I could feel myself smile from the inside out, and I thanked God every day for giving my Dad back to me. But all good things have to come to an end and it was time to go home.  Dad came to the airport, to see me off the day I left for home.  We held hands and spoke of new beginnings, and promises to keep in close contact from then on.  I didn't want to leave, because my heart was breaking, and I was so afraid he would disappear again, just like in my dreams, but I had a life and child back home, I just couldn't stay any longer.
Daddy assured me he will always be there for me, and if I needed anything, he was just a phone call away. As I boarded the plane, he watched me until I was out of site. I could see him from the plane window, walking slowly away and I know he felt just like I did.


      On the plane I could smell his aftershave on my hands, it was so comforting, it made me feel close and warm, and all the way home I thought of our time together and of how lost I was feeling to leave him behind, and also excited to plan my next visit with him, but that after shave, to this day I can still smell it in my mind and that smell gives me comfort to know he is still with me.


     The next 15 years were spent having the most wonderful times with Dad, I finally had someone in my life who really LOVED ME, someone who didn't abuse me, criticize me, or hurt me in any way. We spent so many wonderful times together, finally getting to know one another, I found he was kind, non judgemental, funny, supportive, and loving, he always had stories and adventures to share that were sometimes, most outrageously funny, and they kept me laughing, and they always come to mind when I want something to smile about.
  Dad was somewhat of a writer too, and loved to tell his stories on paper, but he would only keep them for himself, I know he could have been a great novelist, but he was content to just write about it for his own pleasure. He didn't need to be a star, or anyone special, he didn't need to be famous, little did he know how very special and famous he was to me.  He was a mercenary for the military, served his country as a para trouper in the Airborne, he was a dance instructor for Arthur Murry Dance studios, a choreographer for the Shoot outs at the OK corral in Bonnie Springs, he trained horses on a big ranch, he wrote news articles for the local news papers where he lived, he even rode a Harley, and was buddies with a very huge guy named Tiny. He loved his garden, his little trailer, and his little dog Cookie, his sons, grandsons, and great grand sons, and best of all he loved me. His life was full of adventures, and excitement and he shared it all with me. I am better to have known him and am grateful for the short time we had, but that time, truly wasn't long enough. I somehow feel a little cheated, but God has his own plans, and I know better than to mess with God, and I try to stay grateful for what he truly gave me.


     One by one my brothers became curious about Dad and began there own contacts with him, I was happy that at least 3 of the 4 got to know him, I don't know if they really knew how great he was, they haven't shared much of their experiences with me, nor I with them. My youngest brother was so hurt by Dad not knowing of him, that he rejected him all together, and lost out on any opportunity to do so.  Dad had no idea he had a fourth son,  Mom said she was pregnant when he left, but with  her having a new boyfriend at that time, Dad was unsure of a fourth son, he didn't want to make any claims, also the fear of rejection of the youngest was a big factor, Dad didn't want to open a can of worms and didn't want to be put in the middle of something that could possibly come back to hurt him. If only given a chance I think they both, would have come to terms with a greater understanding of the situation and some sort of healing could have come to pass.


     My Mother spoke so evil of our Father for all those years growing up, and when she found out of my contact with him, she began an all out, outraged attack on me, trying hard to regain her reign over us. She was so insanely jealous, that she had my brothers fearful to begin any kind of a fruitful relationship with him, not to mention closing the doors for us to have anything good to remember in our lives, or was it to keep us from finding out the truths she didn't want us to know about?  I have to respect my Dad, he wouldn't share any of his life with Mother, he didn't want to interfere or sway my thoughts of her, I only wish she would have given him the same consideration. I wish my brothers and I we were allowed to come to our own conclusions of what really was, instead she made us listen for hours of how bad it was back then for her, and pushing us, her way, or the highway. To this day we don't talk about him to each other, because of Mother, and it makes me grieve inside, because I want to talk openly, and let my brothers know how great Dad really was.  Forgiveness and forgetting is one of the hardest things for this family to do, and I really don't know why. Perhaps it's our Italian ancestry of holding vendetta's to the death.


    The day Dad found out he had cancer, I was there at his bedside when the Doctor told him, I can still see that hurt and devastated look in his eyes, when he looked at me.  With a single tear dripping down his face, he said what should I do? I told him Dad your a Jordan and you can beat this thing, he nodded his head wiped his tears  and said OK that's what we will do. I really think he gave up that day, My Dad was strong but the cancer was stronger and was just too far gone.  The last few weeks of his life were filled with pain and agony, I watched this man wither away to skin an bones and I knew his time was coming fast and I know he was hanging on for me, he didn't want to disappoint me by leaving again, I think he was waiting for me to say it's OK to go. The night before my father died, I told him, Daddy remember the story of me running down that hallway of the children's home, and your arms were wide open to me?, and you hugged me and took away my pain?  I said softly with tears on my cheeks, Daddy Jesus is waiting in that hallway with his arms open to you, it's OK, you go, and he will take your pain just like you did for me.
     Daddy's beautiful spirit found his way to God in the wee hours of the next morning, while he held my hand....we said our goodbyes and he quietly passed away.  I miss you so much Daddy, but I know you are still here with me, in my heart, my mind, and my dreams.
I love you Dad for always and forever