Father’s Day: a celebratory date in June where families honor their fathers and say “thank you” for all that they have done. My respect and adoration goes out to two men who have meaningfully influenced my life, my father and grandfather. I woke up on Sunday morning to sunshine, accompanied by a cool breeze rolling through my window. I opened my eyes, smiled, and quickly reached for my phone. I scrolled though my contacts until I reached the name. “Dad.” “Happy Father’s Day!” I exclaimed. My father, who lives out-of-state, sounded so joyous on the other end. Even though he lives over 1200 miles away, I felt grateful to be able to speak with him on this day. Up until last year, my dad and I have not communicated much throughout my life. Now, we are able to talk about anything and everything. We banter back-and-forth as we discuss topics such as sports, cars, the outdoors, and animals. He is very interested in my career goals, dreams, aspirations, and relationships and is able to offer me genuine, valuable advice. After I hung up my cellphone, I sprung up from my bed and got ready to go visit my grandfather’s at St. Gabriel’s Cemetery. When I arrived to the cemetery and looked upon my grandfather’s mausoleum, memories of fishing in the park, sleigh riding, playing games of catch, camping in his backyard, and driving around in his off-white, shiny Cadillac flooded my thoughts. I could not help but shed tears of gratitude as he made my childhood so pleasant, so adventurous, and most of all, so much fun.
By James Romano
On Sunday morning, I ran downstairs and sat on the couch next to my dad, handing him a Father’s Day gift: a black frame holding an old photograph of us. In the picture, he was lounging on the sofa wearing my white Easter hat while I stood next to him in a fancy dress, hugging him and kissing his cheek. The little girl in the photo reminded me of my 4-year-old cousin; my family gathered at her house to celebrate that day, and I watched her splash her grinning dad in their blow-up pool all afternoon. Her father was in his glory. I saw the joy and pure love sparkle in his brown eyes as he simply looked at his beautiful little girl. Of course, I noticed that admiration; I see it every morning when I greet my dad, every night when I tell him I love him. I have been on the other end of that genuine look since I was my cousin’s age even before that. I remember all of our daddy daughter dates to Applebee’s, Hilary Duff concerts, days working in the garden, pizza and movie nights on Fridays, signaling the “hang loose” hand gesture to each other during my soccer games when he coached my team just a few of my favorite memories with my best friend. My father is my hero. He is my conscious, guiding me throughout every hardship with support and honesty without judgment. I’ll always be his little girl.
By Samantha Caramela
