Fathers
by Joseph Fosco
It is hard to write about the significance of a father and not think of the significance of a mother at the same time. I myself am not a father, though I like to think I have served others in such a capacity over the years. Therefore, I believe that I am an excellent candidate to talk about the significance of fatherhood. More importantly, I lived two different lives: one with a father and one without.
Until February 5, 1987, I had a best friend, brother, mentor, protector, adviser, companion, ally and a father all in one. His name was Dad. Although I did not have him for long, I was blessed to have him at all. He has left me with wisdom. He taught me how to survive. Because of Dad, I can handle anything this world throws at me. Through all the twists and turns, Dad’s guidance and good advice has served me well, even in the most ‘interesting’ of times.
What I find especially valuable is how Dad has advised me from his grave during some crucial times. This makes me realize that others must feel the same way. Sometimes you find yourself stumped with life’s problems and you might ask Mom or Dad for advice. For those like me who have lost their father, you must rely on your memory of the knowledge that your father instilled in you in order to find the best solution.
When I was a kid, shortly after my dad’s death, I was playing with a real handgun in my mother’s basement. It had belonged to my grandfather, and I managed to find after snooping around as kids sometimes do. I aimed it at my younger brother, which was the most foolish thing to do, and I decided to pull the trigger. However, just before I fired the gun, words from the past popped into my head. It was a vivid memory of my dad giving me my first toy gun when I was much younger, along with the advice that I must never point it at anyone, despite it being a perfectly harmless toy. Just as I reminisced about my lesson from Dad, I moved the gun slightly away from my little brother and fired it, only to learn that it was loaded. I missed hitting my little brother’s head by a couple of inches. Thankfully, no one was injured.
Even then, after his passing, my Dad was watching out for me.
We all have different stories, memories and experiences with our fathers and now you know one of mine. While my father taught me many valuable lessons, the story that I have shared is the most striking for me. This simple yet poignant message turned out to preserve my immediate family and keep us from the tragedy that would have occurred if it were not for Dad. To this day, I occasionally wake up thinking of what could have happened to my family if I had not received that advice from my father. The thought of this story haunts me and at the same time, I rejoice in knowing that I still have my brother. I must credit God as well as my father for what I truly consider a miracle.
Fathers, stepfathers, fathers of the cloth, fatherly-teachers and fatherly-mentors are people that make our life smoother in many ways. Almost all of us have someone to call a fatherly-figure and we must be very thankful. For those who do not have a positive father figure in their life, those of us who had the benefit of such a role model must reach out and be that fatherly figure (advisor or helper) to those in dire need. Fathers come in all kinds, shapes and sizes and without them we face fierce challenges in life alone.
Right now, tell your father (or father figure) in person, by email, phone or via prayer how grateful you are for the lessons that you have learned and pay tribute to him by passing along what you now know because of him.
14 Comments
I have two questions. First, I see that you said that your father was an “adviser.” Did you pick up your catch phrase, “Please be advised” from him? My second question pertains to the dangerous gun play perpetrated by you in your mother’s basement. Are telling us that your father told you to never point a loaded gun at someone, but he never told you to not fire a loaded gun in the house?
Dear Brian,
The statement indicates that my father was ‘my’ adviser. The phrase, as you put it, ‘please be advised’ is very commonly spoken, obviously – I have no idea when I began using those words.
I believe my father assumed that I would not to shoot a gun in the house. As you recall, it was never my intention to shoot a loaded gun. I thought the gun was missing the bullet that was expected to fire.
Joe,
Did your brother return fire? If so, did you sustain an injury?
Brian,
No, my 12-year old brother did not return fire. I was 14.
Thank you for your questions.
Joe,
What a really nice article i just came across it.I can relate to it since my father is longer alive..And my parents were divorced when i was young..
And yes we truly need both parents in our lives to grow up and be well adjusted adults.
What kind of questions are these?Obviously Brian is looking for something negative in this article..
Joe
Did your brother return fire? Did you say something like, “hasta la vista, baby” or “there ain’t enough room in this town for the two of us” before you started firing?
Brain, your a nut case!! Get a life!!!!!
Debbie, you have just provided me the scaffolding for an awesome joke, but I’m going to refrain from hammering home the punchline.
These are jokes. I am joking. Take it easy.
Hasta la vista, babies!
Yeah real funny Brian!!! HAHA
OK, OK, I’m sorry for my jokes. Are you OK now Debbie?
Caught!
I found a hole in your story Mr. Publisher. How could you have almost shot someone if the gun used was a TOY gun given to you by your father? As we know, the only projectiles associated with toy guns are suction cup darts, nerf balls, etc.
LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE WAS CAUGHT (RED-HANDED) EMBELLISHING FOR THE SAKE OF A SENSATIONAL COVER STORY!!!
Dear Hip,
Reread the article. If you do not get it right, reread it again. You will get it right eventually – I have faith in you.