Father's Day

This is the day for Fathers all around the world. I am writing this post to honour my father who is no longer with us.

I guess you can say that I started life as a Daddy's Girl. In those early years in Jamaica, my mother moved to the States to start our family migration to the States. So, it was me, my siblings, Dad and various helpers. One of my earliest memories of my Dad is being on the plane with him flying to the States - it is not much of a memory other than I cried A LOT (I can feel for him now).

My parents were married on February 28, 1954. They were married for 39 years before his passing in 1993 due to Multiple Myeloma cancer.

I can't say that I knew my Dad after all the years that I lived with him. He was pretty quiet, a TV hound like me, and he had a sense of humour. While my mother was the disciplinarian, my father was the "good guy" - although, I know that my father must have instigated a beating or two on her part.

I miss my Dad. There are many "sorries" that I have when I think of him: I am sorry that he does not know the child that I gave his name; I am sorry that he does not know the grandchild that so looks like him; I am sorry that my daughter does not know him - he would have adored her!

While I really don't know much about my Dad, and his background, other than he was around. I remember when he would return home from work and I would be outside playing on the street. I would run up to him (he would take off "running") and practically give him the shake down like a 10 year old neighborhood thug for some candy. He pretty much never disappointed me because he would have a Kit Kat in his pocket. My Dad did that for me - I know this now because he was a diabetic and candy was not on his list of foods to eat. I wish I did know more about him. I wish he was here for me to ask all those questions about his family and get to know him as a person. How silly, as we are gaining our independence, that we decide that our parents are not worth knowing. We put our parents in a box labeled as "old fashioned" and tend to discount their worth in our lives. I am aware of this now because he is not here for me to correct these mistakes.

I did get to hear some stories after my Dad when he returned from a trip to Jamaica (late 80s/early 90s). He had visited a lot of family while he was there and he really wanted to share some of that information when he returned. His family name came from an ancestor out of Scotland, not Ireland as originally thought - the original family name was Brown, but I still am not clear how it changed to Harrison. The Royal Air Force photo (in blog) was reportedly taken when my Dad was a teenager - he liked a girl and it is said that he joined the Air Force to appear older than his young years to impress the girl's father. I never did learn one thing about my Dad - my family laughed when, at the gathering after the wake, I realized that my Dad took the story of how he lost the tip of his finger to his grave (he did regale me with stories of losing it when playing tennis - uh-huh). He even told my sisters stories of fighting the Japanese in WWII - uh-huh, my Dad never did see combat. His stories of winding up one arm and then punching them in the nose with the other were amusing just the same.

Sometime in the 80's I changed from calling him "Daddy" to "Pops." I think it came from watching a movie like "Westside Story" or one of the "Bowery Boys" flicks - young leather thugs calling the older men "Pops."

When asked the inevitable "How Did You Meet" question, my Dad told me that he and my Mom met at the office. I never got much more than that although I did ask several times. My Dad said that my Mom used to chase him around the desk. My mother laughed at this, but never elaborated on the "How They Met" story.

I did not grow up in a demonstrative or vocal family when it came to expressing love, but I wish that he was here so I could say, "I love you, Pops. Happy Father's Day." Maybe I would even give a better gift than Bay Rum Aftershave.

So, Pops, if are up in heaven acting as a Guardian Angel (or even if you have returned to Earth), can you send a good man my way? I'll take him without reservation if he is hand picked by you.

Tharence Roy Harrison
19 July 1925 - 26 May 1993