Father's Day. In which I miss my dad.

Meu pai (my dad) was about to turn 73 when he passed away unexpectedly nearly 8 years ago.

My father, Antonio, refused to return to McAllen to visit Marissa and me because (in his colorful Portuguese) “pareceu a boca do inferno cuando saimos do aviao” (it felt like the mouth of hell when we got off the plane). I don't blame him because that's probably the best way to describe the weather here. If nothing else, Dad was blunt and honest (but he was so much more). That was back in June of 1990 when Marissa and I were married and the last time Mom and Dad visited us here in McAllen. We would go on to visit my parents, of course, in their adopted retirement home every New Year's holiday during our semester break. The weather in West Palm Beach averages a temperate 80, a fact my dad never forgot to remind me about during our annual visits.

At 26, my father emigrated to the United States from Portugal after marrying Mom in 1962 (she was 36). Both of them had grown up in the tiny farming village of Lombomeão (near Aveiro which is near Porto) along the northern coast. Dad worked at the General Motors assembly plant in Sleepy Hollow, New York until he took advantage of early retirement when GM closed the plant down. Since then, Mom and Dad had been living in West Palm Beach and for the last 10 years of his life Dad was devoted to caring for my mom who developed Alzheimer’s in her mid 70s. Caring for my mom took its toll on Dad’s health, but he persevered up until about a year before his death when we helped move Mom to a private care facility near their home where she received personal attention and hospice care until her death a few years after Dad passed away. We chose not to tell her about Dad’s death, but I suspect she knew.

My dad worked at least two jobs his entire life to provide for our family and continued to work into his retirement taking care of Mom. I'm very proud of his sacrifices and always try to put others first in my own life as a tribute to him.

Dad grew up a farmer and, although I have not inherited any of these talents, I have fond memories of lush vegetable gardens in the backyard of our childhood home.  Dad's specialty was tomatoes as you can see.

That's us on a summer visit to Portugal back in 1975.
Gotta love the extra-wide white belt!

Along with my mom's meticulously crocheted tablecloth (Mother's Day), another family heirloom, from Dad's side of the family, is featured in our dining room.

During our summer family visits to Portugal, we always stayed with his parents in my father's childhood home. I remember seeing this old clock daily as we passed the never-used dining room on the way into the kitchen every morning and hearing its chimes echo throughout the house every hour and quarter hour.

While its overwound 100-year old mechanism now keeps it from playing its hourly Ave Maria, I recall hearing the hymn's periodical refrain throughout those childhood summers. The clock, now officially antique, hangs in our new dining room addition, close to a display of family pictures and close to my mother's handiwork and, of course, close to my overly-sentimental heart.

I look forward to the regular task of winding it, opening the carved front and turning the brass key as if turning back the hands of time once a week. Then setting the pendulum to swinging again, moving the whole process forward again and again until it is time to relive the treasured heirloom's memories the following Sunday.

I have shared many stories and reflections with you, dear reader, as I have traveled near and far and have traversed memories close and distant, but I suppose I would have to admit that Mae's tablecloth and Pai's family clock are my most valuable treasures.

Here is my most recent photo of Mae e Pai together. They are both enjoying their retirement, together, and smiling.

It makes me happy.

A treasured moment for them and another treasured memento for this very grateful son.

Until next time.

Following our safe return from this summer's travels (and after some welcome-home-lovin' from Mamita), I promise to continue our London adventure.  Look for an update in early July.