Tribute to my Dad
Yesterday was about my stepdad, today is about my real father. His name was Victor. He died at 42 by killing himself. He was a wonderful man, very loving and caring. He worked hard, so hard that he ended up hurting himself to the point where he could no longer deal with the pain and there was no cure.
I remember fondly the days when my dad used to take us to Six Flags and we would go over and over again all summer long. This is when they had something called Twickets, where if you bought a ticket, you could come back another day within a month for $1. My dad would get us a regular ticket, get the twickets, and then ask people in the park for their twickets if they weren't going to use them. We kept going back over and over again for a $1 per person. We had so much fun those days, I remember when Viper first opened up and my dad waited in line for 4 hours to get on the ride and he loved it. It was one of my favorite rides as well (once I got big enough for it). There was a time at Magic Mountain (the Six Flags in LA) where I had been on every ride in the park- adult and child rides. Those were the days! My dad would go around every time we went looking for more twickets and he would keep a stash of them so we could go back anytime we wanted. He was a mailman, so he had off during the week when it was the best time to go. Those were some of the best summer days of my life.
My dad was also strong-willed. He had lived a life where if you didn't get an education, you had to work hard physically. He worked most of us (I was the youngest, so I got out of most of the harder work) and did some amazing things. One summer he and my brothers and sister re-piped the entire 2 story house we lived in. He loved roses, and we had rose bushes surrounding our property, along with a bunch of fruit trees in the backyard. We lived in the ghetto, but he made his own oasis of beauty in it. We could watch the gangsters burn the cars in the parking lot across the street through the rose bushes (although we just called the fire department for the millionth time and told them they were burning cars again). Nobody tagged on our wall. My dad once caught some guys trying to tag up our wall and he lectured them until they went away and nobody else ever touched it. My dad lectured *gangsters*. We lived in the full-fledged ghetto at the time. That was my dad, though.
I love him so much, and I miss him. He used to do special things, like squeeze my hand a certain way to tell me he loved me without saying a word. We would be walking around the LA County Fair, hand in hand, and he would do that special squeeze and tell me he loved me. I walked with him later in life as they were going through the different options to try and take away his pain (this was when they were trying electrodes) and we would walk together while they worked on his back. Nothing ever worked for his pain, but he did try his best. He gave his all to everything. My dad is the strongest person I have ever known- he put himself through hell just for his kids to give us a better life. And it worked. My brother is the top manager at his company, my sister is getting her Psy.D (Ph.D in psych) next year, I went to one of the top colleges in the country and I'm getting ready to change psychology as we know it, and my little brother is trying to be an M.D. We all value education, work hard and have a passion for life. My dad did his best to give us the best, and even though he ended up taking his life, he gave us every last bit of his heart.
I remember fondly the days when my dad used to take us to Six Flags and we would go over and over again all summer long. This is when they had something called Twickets, where if you bought a ticket, you could come back another day within a month for $1. My dad would get us a regular ticket, get the twickets, and then ask people in the park for their twickets if they weren't going to use them. We kept going back over and over again for a $1 per person. We had so much fun those days, I remember when Viper first opened up and my dad waited in line for 4 hours to get on the ride and he loved it. It was one of my favorite rides as well (once I got big enough for it). There was a time at Magic Mountain (the Six Flags in LA) where I had been on every ride in the park- adult and child rides. Those were the days! My dad would go around every time we went looking for more twickets and he would keep a stash of them so we could go back anytime we wanted. He was a mailman, so he had off during the week when it was the best time to go. Those were some of the best summer days of my life.
My dad was also strong-willed. He had lived a life where if you didn't get an education, you had to work hard physically. He worked most of us (I was the youngest, so I got out of most of the harder work) and did some amazing things. One summer he and my brothers and sister re-piped the entire 2 story house we lived in. He loved roses, and we had rose bushes surrounding our property, along with a bunch of fruit trees in the backyard. We lived in the ghetto, but he made his own oasis of beauty in it. We could watch the gangsters burn the cars in the parking lot across the street through the rose bushes (although we just called the fire department for the millionth time and told them they were burning cars again). Nobody tagged on our wall. My dad once caught some guys trying to tag up our wall and he lectured them until they went away and nobody else ever touched it. My dad lectured *gangsters*. We lived in the full-fledged ghetto at the time. That was my dad, though.
I love him so much, and I miss him. He used to do special things, like squeeze my hand a certain way to tell me he loved me without saying a word. We would be walking around the LA County Fair, hand in hand, and he would do that special squeeze and tell me he loved me. I walked with him later in life as they were going through the different options to try and take away his pain (this was when they were trying electrodes) and we would walk together while they worked on his back. Nothing ever worked for his pain, but he did try his best. He gave his all to everything. My dad is the strongest person I have ever known- he put himself through hell just for his kids to give us a better life. And it worked. My brother is the top manager at his company, my sister is getting her Psy.D (Ph.D in psych) next year, I went to one of the top colleges in the country and I'm getting ready to change psychology as we know it, and my little brother is trying to be an M.D. We all value education, work hard and have a passion for life. My dad did his best to give us the best, and even though he ended up taking his life, he gave us every last bit of his heart.
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