By Lori Welch Brown

Boy, do I ever miss my dad. Don’t get me wrong—I miss both my parents, but I was a daddy’s girl 1,000 percent. Sadly, Dad passed just before the COVID vaccine was rolled out. I was heartbroken, but his last year on this planet was pretty miserable locked away in an assisted living facility, reliant on a bare-bones staff to help him with everything from going to the bathroom to changing the channel on his TV, to placing a call.

Grief and maturity are interesting beasts. They make you think about things in different ways. Yes—I miss my dad for a million reasons, and I’m sad not to be able to celebrate him on Father’s Day. But now that I’m older, I appreciate him in ways I never imagined—mostly for the things he didn’t do vs. the things he did—and I think my brothers would agree—that’s what made our dad so special.

For starters, he never complained. When life handed him lemons, he shrugged and said, “No use worrying about it. Just gotta put one foot in front of the other and keep going.” He taught us that life was hard, but you can overcome your challenges with grace.

Unlike me, he never cursed or swore. He was a true Virginia gentleman, rarely—if ever—letting anyone get him riled up. Okay—maybe when we were younger and missed curfew or disobeyed one of his many rules. Even during those times, he never lost control. And, it was abundantly clear who was in control.

He rarely drank, never smoked, or gambled (beyond the occasional Friday pm poker games with my uncles) or went out without my mom or us. He went to work, came home, and coached our after-school wiffle ball games in the backyard. As we got older and started experimenting with alcohol, he told us “You don’t need booze to have fun.” I think he was right, but the jury is still out.

He didn’t join expensive gyms or clubs, collect sports cars, or buy expensive watches. He lived simply and joyfully. The lesson—material things don’t make us happy.

He never called in sick to work. No matter how he felt, he went to make the doughnuts. That is probably not great advice as no one should be show up sick to work, passing their germs around. The point being that he got up every morning at the crack no matter how he felt because he had mouths to feed. He modeled an amazing work ethic that he passed down to all of us.

He never disrespected our mother or anyone for that matter. Even during their arguments, he listened and treated her with respect, never raising his voice.

As I mentioned, Dad had rules. Lots of them, but he didn’t sway on them. We knew what the rules were and that they weren’t to be bent or broken. One of my faves is, “The person with the checkbook makes the rules.” And another oldie, but a goodie—“My house, my rules.”

The other thing Dad didn’t do was spend money that he didn’t have; he rarely used credit cards—only at Christmas for convenience’ sake or when a major appliance bit the dust. As a result, we all learned how to live within our means.

So simple—but he didn’t leave his tools out or let dirt collect on our vehicles. He took good care of the things he worked for—we saw that he valued those things and wanted them to last.

He also didn’t buy things for us that we could buy for ourselves. He and mom gave us chores and paid us an allowance so we could save up for our wants. It made us appreciate the things we worked hard for, and as a result, we took care of our things as well. It also helped us build self-confidence.

He didn’t hand us credit cards. Instead, he took us to the bank at an early age (I think I was 5 or 6?), and had us open our own savings accounts. Money from birthday gifts and holidays was deposited and saved. I loved watching my money grow and felt like such a grown up going up to the teller window.

He didn’t let a Christmas go by without sending cards, and he made me sit down the day after my high school graduation to write thank you notes. He understood the value of a handwritten note and a thank you.

Dad didn’t let us get one over on him. When we were teens and tried to push boundaries, we quickly learned that it was next to impossible.

When it came time to learn to swim or ride a bike or drive, he didn’t hold us back. Nope—he threw us right in and watched as we swam or drove off.

When we entered adulthood, he didn’t keep his wallet open. I’m really grateful for that because it made me independent. Sure—if something happened and I found myself in a pinch, he would extend a loan, but the terms were clear—he expected to be repaid.

He didn’t let us disrespect him. Ever. And, it was because of his rules, that he earned our respect.

He didn’t yell or scream at us. He got his point across in a quiet way. When people say there’s power in silence, I know what they mean.

He didn’t make idle threats. We knew he meant business when he spoke.

He didn’t jump in and rescue us every time we fell. He let us hit the ground, dust ourselves off, and get back up which taught us resilience.

He didn’t spoil and coddle us—he protected and cherished us. We knew we were loved, but we also knew our place—behind him and Mom. They were a couple. They were in charge. We were their charges.

He didn’t take his responsibility as a parent lightly. He looked at it like a job that he needed to be successful at in order for us to be successful.

He didn’t take education for granted. No matter what—we were getting our butts out of bed and going to school. His education only went as far as the eighth grade, and he was making damn sure we walked across the stage to receive our diplomas.

Was my dad an ogre? Hardly. Was he our friend? Absolutely not. No—he was a parent, and he did a damn good job at being our dad.

Sometimes it’s the things you don’t do that makes you a great dad.

Dad—I’m so very grateful and blessed and miss you every minute of every day.

Happy Father’s Day!

About the Author: Lori is a local writer, painter and pet lover who loves to share her experiences and expertise with our readers. She has been penning a column for the OTC for over 20 years. Please follow Lori online on Medium for more missives like this.