Steve (Farkas) Farkos circa WWII
When my dad was a young man he won a scholarship to play football at a leading university. He did not get the chance to go. His father was by this time not supporting the family and it became his role to be the man of the house. His mother worked and he worked and his younger brothers were watched over by him. Without going into all the details, this was a tremendous responsibility and through it all my dad did his best.
He went to war and when he left his employer kept his job for him. He was that kind of man, one you wanted around. He worked for that company all his life. He eventually sat on the board of directors and nursed it through many a tough economic situation, only to be thought less of by the son who eventually inherited the company upon his father's death. Oh, they kept him on, but all the life he had put into it was not respected and he would no longer sit on the board. He tried to move on, but by this time was too old. He thought of having his own business, but living through the depression and seeing people lose so much, he was risk adverse. At heart he was an entreprenuer, a very artistically creative man, a man who could build things and create advertising icons, customer catalogs and put his soul into just about everything he touched. He was a good boss, the kind people flourished under. He was a vice president in charge of sales and marketing. The company supplied industrial equipment all over the world. He knew what you needed and his people sold it to your people and together all kinds of things got built.
He was a family man, loyal and true. He was a good father, at times a great father, and believe me, if I told you how I know that, you would believe me and say it is true. He was a man of his times. He had duties, he did them. He did not complain, but he did expect, and I guess you could say, demand you do yours too. That is how the world functioned. There was always time for a smile, a laugh, fun and of course his favorite thing, travel. He had a special place in his heart for indigent children and when he died we found how much of an impact he made on community efforts to help these kinds of children, learn, achieve, play sports and be nurtured, safe and loved.
When you grow up with two parents who were military, you learn things that other kids don't. When you are the child of older parents you learn things your contemporaries don't too. This makes you a much different teenager and adult than some of your classmates and even your best friends.
From my dad I learned to appreciate things, the food on the table, the roof over my head, the clothes I got to wear and the opportunities that I could experience. I learned to be respectful, but that questioning was good too. I learned that while the other kids had more or less than I did, that my attention and my life was with my situation, my family. He would even tell my mother, "Mind your own little square" , if she complained with jealousy about something a neighbor got that she did not have. That attitude saved me too. I learned how to praise and appreciate, not to covet and whine. Nice things to know, because for some there is just never enough money and competition is the only thing that motivates them. Some competition is good and you need money to live on, but the excess of either without being in their proper perspective can make you unhappy and eventually a pariah to all those who might be your friend.
When my dad reached 50, his hair was already silver. He was experiencing his life in the usual way, intensely committed to work, his home, his children and his wife. Sometimes in that order, sometimes in the reverse. I of course, preferred the reverse. In time as I matured, I began to see my father as more of a regular, sometimes imperfect human being. I was able to talk to him and rely on his sage answers to my continual need for guidence in things that were well beyond what some people dealt with or understood.
I asked all kinds of things, political, personal, you name it. Sometimes I just drove him nuts, but he could see my wheels turning and did what he could to be there with some kind of information. I look back and even now realize what I really learned from him.
It would not be long before he would rely on me in much the same way. The disease which eventually killed him only 16 years after that birthday was one which he valiantly was forced to fight twice. The first time he asked me if he should do the chemo and the treatments. I was about 26 and while I had a lot of experience under my belt, I did not know what to say at first. Then I cracked it into little pieces for him, used the decision techniques he had taught me and wielded the mighty sword of the innocent, pointing him to his own direction, affirming his decision. It was in that moment I was the adult he respected.
There had been many times where he gave me the chance to be the person he turned to. I have no claim to his affections more than any of the other children, but it was perhaps a reflection of himself that he might have seen in me. As time wore on and his fight ended, I never forgot the little things. The things he told me, the things I knew, the way he would say, " Can you pick that up for dear old dad?" or " Your eyes are better than mine, thanks for seeing that for me." or " I believe that you, out of all my children, you are the one I believe who would take care of your mom and me if we needed it." All of these little pieces are out of their context, but I can hear him say them, even after all these years. I used to talk to my dad in his last years of life everyday, he went to his work right up until the last few weeks of his life. He addressed the challenges of his life up to the end and I learned more about him and from him in those moments. I learned how to carry on, how it feels to be in constant battle, how to meet the enemy, how to live and how to die.
I know that people are full of their own failures but they are also full of their own grace. Some people have it more than others and I cannot think of anyway to say this expect, I was a lucky child and I knew it then and I know it now.
It has been about 25 years since his death. He missed the birth of my children and so much that I would have liked to share with him, that I know he would have appreciated and been proud of. I miss the answers he would give me too, the never ending questions did not stop. In the end I got probably the very best he had to give from him and for me that was more than good.
There are many good fathers, my husband is one, his father was one too. I thank my G-d everyday that we could have that gift and pass it on. Happy Fathers Day to all the Dads who love.
Copyright 2011 by SheilaTGTG55 words & photo
TIP:
Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
AJCalhoun
Chicago Guy
Michelle Coulter
Wren Dancer
gremadcha
elizabethkirby
Salon.com
Comments
Rated with hugs
Linda: That means a lot that you read this and you said I have his eyes. That really means a lot to me. No one has ever said that. I so appreciate your observation. HUG
♥
Fusun: Yes, he missed my sons and daughter, but got to be a grandfather to five granddaughters from my brother and sister. He was the kind of grandpa who made them all doll cribs, really cool on wheels even, a huge doll house and so much more. He loved to make things and create.
Hawley: Yes, we often speak of him and used to even when they were little. We shared a lot about him and some of his talented photography hangs in our home.
Joan: I think he would be a little embarrassed and tell me he wasn't that wonderful, but he really was a great guy. He had a hardhat that said, "Steve Farkos" A Great Guy" that was once presented to him.
Margaret: Yes, very, very young, but hopeful and resilient.
R
R