By Paul Stone
Our dad loved making people laugh. Remember that sparkle in his eyes as he raised his eyebrows and read the words on a card …Wishhhhhhhhing you muchhhhhhhhh Happppppppenis.
With a passion for photography, our Mom his favorite model, he more often than not was behind the camera, loving to take pictures and movies of us.
We had the most glorious summers in that little white and green country house in Petit Lac long…I can still remember the sweet scent of the paint baking in the sun as we painted those little windows in the sunroom. The scent of an oiled gravel road, the dust rising as Schwartz the Baker came barreling down in a bright blue van. Rye Bread, yummy treats, cookies and knishes. Those huge bonfires we made at night…singing songs with all our friends and toasting marshmallows. Remembering the double honk as our Dad would surprise us, driving from our city home in Laval after work in his old grey Vauxhaul. So many wonderful times. And thanks to Dad, we have the photos and films to remember it.
For over 65 years our Dad and Mom did everything together, like having the 4 of us, which, I’m sure was no picnic. Yet there was always laughter in the air. The endless scrabble games we played where our Dad would invent any word he knew would elicit a laugh. Like FUQ with the Q landing on the red triple letter score. Our Dad taught us to swim, to ride a bike, to fish to use the canoe and motor boat. As our Mom was so fond of saying “It was heaven on earth”.
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Even as he started slipping away on Friday Evening he said “ I don’t care what you do but you have to promise to take care of your mother and don’t forget to call the funeral home. I promised. I could feel him holding my hand a little tighter and as I gave him a sip of coke he raised his eyebrows in appreciation and gesturing with his finger, said “go home.” It was 9:30. I could feel something had changed. I could finally see how peaceful and serene he looked. He knew better than anyone what was happening. Earlier in the evening he had refused to take any more pills. When the doctor came by and said “ Mr Stone, you’re doing well…. why aren’t you taking your pills he looked at her and said “Bullshit. I’m dying. I don’t want to be your make works patient anymore. Let me go.”
This was my Dad’s essence. Cut to the chase. Work hard but enjoy life. Be honest. Be loving and be respectful. And… pay your bills on time!
It didn’t matter what you wore, how you looked, our Dad loved people…His wife, his children and all those family and friends he met through a life spanning 92 years. I admire my Dad for that.
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Every morning at 8:30 he’d call me and say “ So sonny, what’s new?
“Dad its 8:30!”
We’d talk about anything and everything. Santina, I’m glad I listened to you when you told me to “take time with your Dad…you may not get another chance”
At 11:30 no matter where we’d be in the conversation he’d abruptly say “I have to go… I have to feed your mum…CLICK! For almost 2 years, every day , usually 2 or three times a day he’d go to the Maimonides Hospital to feed my mum, kiss her, stroke her cheek softly and tell her how much he loved her. Yet he never once complained even though his own health was deteriorating.
Dad you lived almost 92 years. You lived life on your own terms. In bad times you never blamed anyone. In good times you rarely took credit. Instead you brought humor and laughter and joy into the hearts of all those you touched. I’m happy I got to tell you that I loved and admired you even if you did tell me to “Stop crying!”.
My Hero. My Dad. Thanks for the memories. And no, I didn’t forget to call.