A tribute to fathers (part 1)

I know I am a couple of days late on this... Happy Father's Day to all of you fathers out there. This post is dedicated to all of the amazing fathers out there and especially the ones in my life. A tribute to my father- Michael Kevin Molloy - March 27, 1942 - August 30th, 2006.

My dad, Michael Kevin Molloy Sr., is impossible to describe in words, but I guess looking back, I have tried on several occasions over the years. His charisma and ability to streamline and deflect any situation that arose was monumental. His problem solving and people skills could go down in history books. He taught everyone he met and was always learning. He had this "Rat Pack" tough kid from the Bronx charm, but he was never cold or unable to approach. Mike (or Mikey allowed by only certain clan members), first generation American, was born in the Bronx to Richard and Ita Molloy of Ireland. He was 7 out of 10 kids, which undoubtedly had a lot to do with social charm and his dire need for "Mikey time". Only those who lived with my dad would know that he was not always "on" or ready for a social gathering. When home, just lounging my dad resided in his sweatpants, white socks and his very loved and very broken-in recliner chair with clicker in hand and a (very) large plastic cup of water or seltzer or caffeine free coke (the kind that makes you go "uh guh guh guh"

My dad was always the final word for me when it came to asking for advice. I consulted with him on everything from car repairs and what computer to buy to tag lines for marketing campaigns I was working on. They didn't call him "the Whip" in high school for no reason. He could whip out a come back faster than anyone I've ever met. He was always ready, but listened with such a keen ear.

I wrote a poem about him my senior year in high school that until the day he died was still quite an accurate assessment - goes to show how consistent he was. My assignment was to write a character sketch of someone I knew based on the style of the Canterbury Tales. I had just recently been grounded until I turned 18, so for two months - my dad was pretty ticked off...

"My father is a man immense with life.
His Eyes a sparkling blue,
And his laughter loud and true.
Through out the years his hair color has changed,
The shades of salt and pepper are all arranged.
He still has a full head of hair,
But in the center there is a small glare.
His attire is a simple dress,
My father is not one to try and impress.
The advice he gives is admirable and fair,
He never hesitates to show that he cares.
A pat on the back is a common occurrence,
As is a pep talk to engrave his assurance.
When he says "I love you kid",
And I have no knowledge of what I did,
I know it's because he's great
And that he's in a joyous state.
The smile that stretches from ear to ear,
Is what will bring to my eye a tear.
He shows his approval out of the blue,
He doesn't need a specific cue.
When he is angry it creates quite a sight,
It may even cause an abundance of fright.
Those famous last words before the end,
"You're pushing your luck, Kid" is what he'll send.
The sound of his voice generates fear,
The depth and tone are what make it clear.
When he clears his throat it's a warning to flee,
And if the warning is neglected,
It's an invitation to a yelling spree.
The eruption only comes after tremendous irritation,
And every time a great initiation.
He won't blow at the first try,
It takes a lot to crack this guy.
Although the punishments tend to be reasonably short,
Probably because he's so familiar with the sport.
Growing up is a hard task,
But being a supportive parent is a lot to ask.
He accomplishes this to a tee,
I'm sure he can't wait to be free.
He and his wife have dreams of the south,
I know we'll keep in touch by mouth.
He strives hard to flourish in his field,
His background and knowledge provide a great shield.
Business and casual are united as one,
He has always succeeded at combining work with fun.
Business deals are constant dates,
In any one of the fifty states.
Often times they take up a whole day,
Discussions are even held on the fairway.
Golf and cigars are his passion,
The opposite of his opinion on fashion.
He focuses on the world around,
The Wall Street Journal cannot be put down.
With each passing day my respect for him grows.
And as I get older I seem to know,
The measures he takes to provide for me.
Without those journies I would not see,
That my father is a man immense with life.

You can see the admiration I had for him when I was just a pip squeak!

In 2006 I had the honor of being walked down the aisle by my father. It had never even occurred to me that it was even a possibility he wouldn't be there. Not even when he was diagnosed with cancer in March of '06. When I was in college he was diagnosed with lung disease (interstitial pulmonary fibrosis).. basically the lungs attack themselves and deteriorate over time. Once he got "better" from it I rarely even thought about it and he was fine. He could exercise and smoke his cigars etc. He was living a normal life. Until March of '06. Literally in a matter of a few days he couldn't swallow anymore. He called me on March 9th (the day before my Mom's 52nd birthday) and told me he/they thought he had esophageal cancer. My response was "are you serious".. it was just so surreal. They caught it early enough, but to fully get the tumor out they would normally operate to remove it, which requires collapsing a lung. With his lung history it wasn't a risk they could take, so they added 2 extra weeks of radiation. Chemo and Radiation took their toll. After several weeks into it as the tumor started to shrink he was able to eat again. My dad loved his food so much that while he couldn't eat he'd actually chew filet mignon just to get the flavor and then spit it out. His humor through it all was unbelievable. He'd send emails to the "Molloy Clan" titled "Cue Ball Update". It was hard to tell what was really going on from afar. Whenever anyone called my parents they'd get one story from my mom (reality combined with fear) and a completely different one from my dad (completely upbeat and turning the conversation to.. so what's going on with you?). He finished the chemo and radiation. He went to my wedding. He beat the cancer. But the lungs got fried in the meantime and just couldn't hold up any longer. In a matter of days he went from celebrating beating the cancer at his favorite restaurant with champagne and making golf dates to passing away. My mom still has his cell phone activated. She says it's because it's a family plan and it'd be a pain to cancel, but I'm not complaining. I'm sure she calls it just like we do (my brothers and sister) to hear his voice on his voice mail. Just last week I literally went to go call him and expected him to say hi. I forgot for a minute. Since he passed I have found myself so flustered and upset that I forgot the sound of his laugh, but it always comes back.

My dad was my inspiration, my hero, and my best friend. I miss him more with each passing day. I wish my daughter would have gotten to meet him, but I know she has so much of him and even his blue eyes. Everyday I reflect about the time I had and the life I want to lead in which he'd be proud.