By Dan Hanley
…of my dad.
It’s been over two weeks since my dad passed away. To me and others it
was sudden, even though we knew he had a major health issue.
My dad: second generation Irish immigrant, Detroit born, US Marine,
father of four, super serious and super loving, businessman, honorable,
super witty, super smart, ethical and most of all, a human being living a
hard-core human experience.
My world is not the same. I don’t feel the same. I’ve been home for over
a week now and feel very uncomfortable with this new normal. My dad
didn’t even live here, nonetheless I feel his loss immensely. Some times
the grief and sadness hit me so hard that it’s difficult to even take a
breath.
My dad, Jack, was one of my close friends. We spoke often and recently
were reading books and discussing them. The one we were currently
reading is “Black Detroit” by Herb Boyd. What a great read.
I spent many times in my hammock chatting away with my dad about how
beautiful it is here in southern California and listening to him talk
about being in San Diego with the Marines and spending a New Year’s Eve
in Los Angeles in the late 50’s. He disliked cold and snow, common in
his Michigan, and loved hearing all about our adventures with beach,
surf and sun.
My dad was such an important part of my world. He loved his family and
made sure that I knew he loved me and was proud of me. Mike and I were
stoked to have spent some time with him in July, even making it to a
delish vegan meal at Green Space Cafe in Ferndale, just outside of
Detroit. That day included a trip to the Detroit neighborhood where he
grew up.
As much as I knew my dad, I learned so much at his viewing and his
funeral. So much love for him, for this man I called dad. People he had
worked with before retiring 16 years ago shared stories of working with
him and about how much he impacted their lives alongside high school
friends who talked of fun and mischief. Listening to all of these
stories was wonderful.
We had rough roads, disagreements and opportunities to grow and forgive. All of these added to my love for him.
Nothing I write can do my dad justice. He taught me that what happens to
you does not have to make you, that family matters, and that the person
we are today does not have to be the person we are tomorrow.
My dad made me better.
I miss him.
Thank you for reading.