Thoughts of Dad
by Leigh H. Fahel

Through most of my life I did not see my father much. However, when I did, it was quite an experience. You see, the job that he had made him travel a lot. In the early years of my life the entire family went with him. We lived in some exotic places and vacationed in many places that most people only dream of. My parents were divorced in 1976, right after he got back from a several-year stay in the Netherlands. After the divorce my dad lived in the next town over for about a year then he moved to Paris, France, where I visited with him for 5 weeks one summer. During those weeks I had the unique perspective of seeing Paris, not as a tourist, but as a resident. Some days, while he was at work, I would take the train into the city (quite a major feat, since I didn't speak a word of French). The thing is, my father only spoke fractured French - just enough to get by.

After that, the next time I saw him was when he flew back for my high school graduation. He and my mother had planned to take me out to dinner. The problem was that I had to work that day in Massachusetts, and I figured that I could get back in time for the dinner. Nope, no way. My little Ford said, "I don't think so, buddy," and died on the side of the road. Well, I did finally make it back to Nashua. I was a little late for dinner, so my dad and I went out for burgers.

During the next several years I did see him a few times. I had moved to Los Angeles. He had since moved to Greece. In 1982 my dad returned to the States from his final overseas trip and settled back briefly in Nashua, New Hampshire, while working at the Andover Mass Raytheon Facility. At that point, I had moved back to Nashua and shared an apartment with him; not as father and son, but as friends. We had some really funny times. One that still sticks in my head was after a trip he made to South Carolina in 1985.

After his drive there he called and told me that he had arrived OK, and that he would be back up in about a week. At the end of the week he arrived home and asked me to get some stuff out of his car. I went down and tried to open the passenger door only to find that, on the way to South Carolina, the car had been in an accident with a deer. Well, it's not over yet.

Dad had called the insurance company to have them come and look over his car, a 1982 Ford Mustang. He asked if he could use my car, a 1977 Pontiac Firebird, that day. I said sure; he'd take mine to work and I'd take his to work. I worked second shift at the time. Well, the morning came and he left for work at about 5:30. At 6:00 the phone rang and I answered it. "Leigh, this is your Dad. Could you come and pick me up at the gas station at the state line? I just spun off the road and your car is in a ditch." It had snowed that morning. I drove down and picked him up, and told him that he had it all backwards (The son is the one who calls the father at some strange hour and says "Dad, I just wrecked the car"). He went back to wait for the insurance man to show up while I waited for the tow truck to show up. As the flatbed brought my car into the parking lot the insurance man turned and watched, looked at his paper work and saw that that car was also covered by his company. My dad asked if the guy could look at it too and kill two birds with one stone, since he had been driving it also.

During these years so many things happened that I would love tell you about; however, I would take a long, long time. However, during those years we really developed a great relationship that more than made up for the earlier years when I couldn't see him a lot.

To me the most important memory came in early January of 1998. My wife and I received news that his health was failing and we should attempt to go to Spartanburg, South Carolina, to see him. We drove from NH to SC in 18 hours, arriving at 10:00 at night. As soon as we walked into my mother's house she asked if it was possible for us to see him that night. The answer was "YES!"

For the next several days we were at his bedside, only leaving long enough to eat and sleep. We refused to leave while he was sleeping, leaving only when he told us to. During this time we discussed our feelings about the past and what was happening in the present. We also let each other know each other's feeling of love.

Less than a month later, February 12, 1998, the call came saying that dad had passed away of congestive heart failure.

It's been several months since that happened, and I still miss him a lot.

This page was last updated

Sunday, July 31, 2005

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