My earliest memory of dad is grabbing his hand while we walked together. As I grew older, I remember my father and I listening to basketball games on the radio. I always fell asleep before the game was over. When I woke up in the morning, the score sheet with the final score on it would be lying next to me. I’ll always remember that.
On cold mornings my father would bring his bread truck by the house. I used to ride on the floor of that bread truck as he delivered the bread to the stores. The smell and the warmth from the bread made my mouth water and kept me warm. I’ll always remember that.
My father would be present at all my games. One night before an important game my father told me sadly that he wouldn’t be able to watch the game because he had to deliver the bread and it was a three-hour drive . The next day as the game drew near I thought about my dad. I happened to look across the field and surprisingly saw his bread truck pulling into the stadium. He managed to make the game. I’ll always remember that.
Years later I had become a teacher . I’ll never forget the voice on the phone early one morning telling me dad had just been killed in a traffic accident. I could hear my heart beat in my ears. I hung up the phone and went back to my bedroom. After that nothing really mattered to me. I still taught in school but I couldn’t centre attention on my teaching. One day I was on the playground when a little boy walked up to me and grabbed my hand. His hand held mine the same way I used to hold my father’s by the last two fingers. At that moment I found my purpose in life again. You see even though my father was gone, he left something with me. He left me his smile, compassion and touch. My purpose was to use those gifts as he did. From that day on I started. I’ll always remember that!