I can't believe it's been nearly seven years since my father passed. Although I get to celebrate this special day with my kids, Father's Day has seemed a bit hollow for me since I lost my dad, my hero, and my friend.
Below is a reposting of the eulogy I wrote for him. You can find the original posting here.
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We are gathered here today to mourn the passing of my father, John Robert Gonzalez. I like to think that we are not only here to grieve, but also to celebrate the life of a man many people knew simply as Johnny. From his brothers and sisters in Mexico and present here today, to Pascuale Cafiero, his dear friend and fellow Longshoreman in Brooklyn, to the members of Corpus Christi Parish, Johnny was always larger than life in his own way. And even though the sickness to which he eventually succumbed physically left him a shadow of his former self, nothing can ever reduce the man that was Johnny.
Johnny was by no means perfect, his many flaws a product of the old-school, blue-collar world in which he grew up. Yet despite his flaws, Johnny was loved by all who knew him. As a worker, Johnny redefined the concept of work ethic and was not happy unless he was doing something. He realized that corners were made for placing your drink and not for the cutting. As a friend, he was known for his selflessness. The first to offer a helping hand, Johnny was the last person to ever ask for assistance. As a military veteran, he served his country in order to support his family back in Mexico. As a loving husband, he would be the first to tell you that my mother was the best thing to ever happen to him. As a father he worked tirelessly to ensure we had a roof over our heads, food on our table and most importantly, an education for our future success. He taught us to trust implicitly, allowing us to jump from the second story of my grandmother’s apartment building. I knew full well he would always catch me, and like so many other situations in my life, he never let me fall.
Johnny was loved despite his flaws. His confidence in his ability to do a job was surpassed only by his own personal insecurity. What some people saw as a perfectionist was many times his overwhelming sense of self doubt. How could someone like him ever make a mark in this world? How could he ever leave a legacy for others to see? I believe it is clear to me that his legacy is visible in the faces of everyone here today. It is clear that Johnny’s legacy is found in the unadulterated love for his grandchildren. There is a saying that the Catholic dictionary defines justice as your children having children, and his legacy – my children Natalie and Daniel and my nephews Leo and Luis – will bear down this justice on my brother and me for many years to come. Johnny’s legacy is not in what he had in his bank account or in financial assets in some investment portfolio. It is not found in the cars he drove or the house in which he lived. Johnny’s legacy is in the outpouring of love you all have shown him, both in his passing and in his time on Earth. His legacy lives in all of us and in the wonderful memories we created and shared with him. His legacy did not end when his spirit left his body to ascend to Heaven. Rather, it is merely beginning and will forever shine in how we celebrate the life of the man we all knew as Johnny. The Book of Luke teaches us, “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” And it fills my heart with joy to see everyone here to exalt my father.
Dad, I pray to God that you are with Him in Heaven, finally enjoying the peace and rest you so well deserve. I also pray that I can be the type of worker you were for the vast majority of your life, the type of friend you were to everyone you knew, and the type of provider you were for your family. I pray that I can be half the father to my children that you were to me. I hope I can be a hero to someone in the way you were always a hero to me. Thank you for always making me feel loved, and please know that we all love you, Johnny. Please know that I will always love you, Dad.
Showing posts with label dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dad. Show all posts
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Vocation: My Mission in Life
The dictionary defines the word ‘vocation’ as a particular occupation, business, or profession; calling. It can also be defined as a function or station in life to which one is called by God. Growing up Catholic, I heard this word a lot when I was in school. I think it was the Catholic Church’s not-so-subtle way of trying to recruit boys into becoming priests. “Normal people have careers, but those true to God know what their vocation is,” I recall Sister Mary Somethingorother telling me once. The way I figure it, if God wanted me to become a priest, He wouldn’t have created boobs.
Still, I believe in the concept of vocation. I believe we are all placed on Earth for a purpose; to play a specific role in His creation. I whole-heartedly believe God has blessed me with a divine task during my time here on Earth, but it has nothing at all to do with being a man of the cloth. Ironically, however, my vocation is one that still requires people to call me father. Two people to be exact.
There is no doubt in my mind my sole purpose in life is to be an exceptional dad. Not a good dad. Not a great dad. Not just an a’ite dad. An exceptional dad. A phenomenal dad. The best dad ever.
Granted, I know I can never be that. Like a perfect GPA in college, once you slip up, you can never get back to 4.0. It’s mathematically impossible. I believe my life’s journey and the transgressions I’ve experienced are akin to that, and those decisions will forever stain my resume as a dad. Nevertheless, I am resolved to make an effort every day and with everything I do to atone for the sins of my past. I am very fortunate my children were so young when my first wife and I split up, and their frame of reference continues to shift from a memory of mommy and daddy together to that of what our current situation reflects.
All that being said, I strive to be the best parent to my children I can possibly be. I like to think I don’t spoil them, yet there is not much which they lack in terms of the ‘things’ they have. By my standard as a kid growing up, my children are very rich. Still, I make sure they appreciate the value of money. I teach them to be respectable and honest, kind and unselfish. I do my best to lead by example; often times forgoing something I want to do in order to teach them the lesson of what is the right thing to do.
As they get older, I find I must give up some of the strict disciplinarian role in order to make room for the more patient and wise consultant. Gone are the days of very narrow limitations and binary choices that set the boundaries they knew as infants and toddlers. Now their choices are quite multiple, all with varying levels and parameters of depth, impact, and consequence. I find where before I would raise my voice and fall back on my trusted “because I say so” argument, I now break into mini-pep talks where the discipline is found in the lesson of the moment. Put another way, I’ve evolved from Nick Saban into Tony Dungy.
I say all this knowing I don’t do it alone. I’ve always said about my ex-wife that I would not want anyone else to be the mother of my children. She and I have always been on the same page when it comes to parenting, and I am so damn lucky that through all that happened, that aspect of our relationship never changed.
Being a dad is not always easy, but it is so incredibly rewarding. I feel it whenever I am complimented about my children. It’s a sense of validation and justification for the many trials and tribulations that come with being a parent. From a long term perspective, my vision is of two individuals who are pillars of their respective communities. Strong and intelligent leaders who are also humble and reverent human beings. That is what I want my kids to become, and that is what I feel it is my mission in life to produce. That is my contribution to my community and this planet. That is my vocation.
As a quick aside, my dad would have been seventy-seven years old today. I wish he were still around to see how beautiful, charming, witty, and fun his grandchildren have become. But I know he’s in Heaven looking down and smiling, and thankful that I never ended up becoming a priest.
Still, I believe in the concept of vocation. I believe we are all placed on Earth for a purpose; to play a specific role in His creation. I whole-heartedly believe God has blessed me with a divine task during my time here on Earth, but it has nothing at all to do with being a man of the cloth. Ironically, however, my vocation is one that still requires people to call me father. Two people to be exact.
There is no doubt in my mind my sole purpose in life is to be an exceptional dad. Not a good dad. Not a great dad. Not just an a’ite dad. An exceptional dad. A phenomenal dad. The best dad ever.
Granted, I know I can never be that. Like a perfect GPA in college, once you slip up, you can never get back to 4.0. It’s mathematically impossible. I believe my life’s journey and the transgressions I’ve experienced are akin to that, and those decisions will forever stain my resume as a dad. Nevertheless, I am resolved to make an effort every day and with everything I do to atone for the sins of my past. I am very fortunate my children were so young when my first wife and I split up, and their frame of reference continues to shift from a memory of mommy and daddy together to that of what our current situation reflects.
All that being said, I strive to be the best parent to my children I can possibly be. I like to think I don’t spoil them, yet there is not much which they lack in terms of the ‘things’ they have. By my standard as a kid growing up, my children are very rich. Still, I make sure they appreciate the value of money. I teach them to be respectable and honest, kind and unselfish. I do my best to lead by example; often times forgoing something I want to do in order to teach them the lesson of what is the right thing to do.
As they get older, I find I must give up some of the strict disciplinarian role in order to make room for the more patient and wise consultant. Gone are the days of very narrow limitations and binary choices that set the boundaries they knew as infants and toddlers. Now their choices are quite multiple, all with varying levels and parameters of depth, impact, and consequence. I find where before I would raise my voice and fall back on my trusted “because I say so” argument, I now break into mini-pep talks where the discipline is found in the lesson of the moment. Put another way, I’ve evolved from Nick Saban into Tony Dungy.
I say all this knowing I don’t do it alone. I’ve always said about my ex-wife that I would not want anyone else to be the mother of my children. She and I have always been on the same page when it comes to parenting, and I am so damn lucky that through all that happened, that aspect of our relationship never changed.
Being a dad is not always easy, but it is so incredibly rewarding. I feel it whenever I am complimented about my children. It’s a sense of validation and justification for the many trials and tribulations that come with being a parent. From a long term perspective, my vision is of two individuals who are pillars of their respective communities. Strong and intelligent leaders who are also humble and reverent human beings. That is what I want my kids to become, and that is what I feel it is my mission in life to produce. That is my contribution to my community and this planet. That is my vocation.
As a quick aside, my dad would have been seventy-seven years old today. I wish he were still around to see how beautiful, charming, witty, and fun his grandchildren have become. But I know he’s in Heaven looking down and smiling, and thankful that I never ended up becoming a priest.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Dad-tastic
As I look back on memories of my life, I can think about personal accomplishments as a youth both on the track and on the field. I’ve been part of championship teams (little league). I’ve had personal accomplishments in school (student body President, Scholar-Athlete of the Year). I remember the feeling of opening the acceptance letter from Tulane University. I can look back at promotions and salary bumps in the fourteen years since I graduated from college. I recall taking a cruise with 500 of my closest friends and rocking my butt off. I’ve even jumped out of a plane.
Still all those memories and all those feelings pale in comparison to the feeling of being a dad. These past two days, I’ve been so blessed to see the culmination of two of Daniel’s activities. Monday night saw him graduate from a Tiger scout to a Wolf scout. It was really just a formality as all other Cub Scouts also crossed over to their next level of scouting. Still, I felt a sense of pride as I looked back on all of Daniel’s accomplishments in his first year as a scout, and all the wonderful memories we shared together. I am excited at the idea of being more involved next year, and I know the overall scouting experience will continue to get better as Daniel gets older.
This brings us to Tuesday and the championship game for Daniel’s basketball season. What started out as my stumbling into an assistant coaching position – I was helping out the first night and the coach asked me if I wanted to formally help him out – turned into a 7-1 season record and a fairly convincing first round playoff win. That lead us to the championship game on Tuesday night against the team that handed us our lone loss of the season; a loss that came in sudden-death overtime after the game ended in regulation with a tie.
Coach Darrell and myself have been on the same page since day one, and in addition to teaching fundamentals, we’ve also tried hard to make the overall experience fun for the kids on the team. We’ve also done a good job in getting everyone involved, and that is evident by the fact that every player on our team scored at least once this season. Tuesday night was no different and we had five of our eight players score a basket. Still, as it was 2 weeks ago, the game ended in regulation with a tie.
We actually had to come from behind to tie the game, and we did so with a set play we had worked on time and time again in practice. DJ, coach Darrel’s son, dribbled the ball down court, allowed his teammates to setup offensively, and made a solid pass into the post to Brandon. Brandon, as we instructed him to do all year, turned and made the shot for the 2 points and tied the game. It was great to see it executed so well, and Darrell and I knew we had a play to which we could turn on the next possession.
We never got a chance to set that play up again and we found ourselves tied 10-10 as the final whistle blew. This game would also be decided in sudden-death overtime. We won the tip and immediately instructed DJ to setup the play to Brandon in the post. The opposing coach, however, made the necessary adjustment and had assigned a better defender on Brandon, thus preventing DJ getting the ball to his desired teammate. However, the defensive adjustment left Daniel covered by a different player, and as DJ dribbled worriedly in hopes of finding Brandon wide-open, there was Daniel all alone in front of the basket.
“Pass it to Daniel” I shouted out to DJ, and he did just that. “Shoot it! Shoot it! SHOOT IT!!!!!” That’s when everything slowed down. The next couple of seconds played out in super slow motion as Daniel pivoted to his left, looked up at the hoop, and let the ball fly. All I heard was my heart beat. THUMP THUMP …… THUMP THUMP …… THUMP THUMP. The ball hit the front of the iron, took an excruciating bounce upwards and found its way into the basket and through the net.
Back on May 3rd, I wrote about my experience with Daniel’s first ever basket in a game. I mentioned how it took everything to keep me from running out on the court and hugging him. Well, we had just won the championship. Daniel, with his soft shot, had just won the championship, and run out on the court and hug him is exactly what I did. I picked him up, his smile competing in size with mine, and gave him a big kiss. My heart just wanted to burst and I was just elated with pride and joy. It was amazing and inexplicable, and it was a feeling I will never ever forget.
And as I look back on the many, many high’s in my life, I know they will always take a back seat to the high’s of watching my kids succeed and the absolute and blessed pleasure that comes from being a dad.
Still all those memories and all those feelings pale in comparison to the feeling of being a dad. These past two days, I’ve been so blessed to see the culmination of two of Daniel’s activities. Monday night saw him graduate from a Tiger scout to a Wolf scout. It was really just a formality as all other Cub Scouts also crossed over to their next level of scouting. Still, I felt a sense of pride as I looked back on all of Daniel’s accomplishments in his first year as a scout, and all the wonderful memories we shared together. I am excited at the idea of being more involved next year, and I know the overall scouting experience will continue to get better as Daniel gets older.
This brings us to Tuesday and the championship game for Daniel’s basketball season. What started out as my stumbling into an assistant coaching position – I was helping out the first night and the coach asked me if I wanted to formally help him out – turned into a 7-1 season record and a fairly convincing first round playoff win. That lead us to the championship game on Tuesday night against the team that handed us our lone loss of the season; a loss that came in sudden-death overtime after the game ended in regulation with a tie.
Coach Darrell and myself have been on the same page since day one, and in addition to teaching fundamentals, we’ve also tried hard to make the overall experience fun for the kids on the team. We’ve also done a good job in getting everyone involved, and that is evident by the fact that every player on our team scored at least once this season. Tuesday night was no different and we had five of our eight players score a basket. Still, as it was 2 weeks ago, the game ended in regulation with a tie.
We actually had to come from behind to tie the game, and we did so with a set play we had worked on time and time again in practice. DJ, coach Darrel’s son, dribbled the ball down court, allowed his teammates to setup offensively, and made a solid pass into the post to Brandon. Brandon, as we instructed him to do all year, turned and made the shot for the 2 points and tied the game. It was great to see it executed so well, and Darrell and I knew we had a play to which we could turn on the next possession.
We never got a chance to set that play up again and we found ourselves tied 10-10 as the final whistle blew. This game would also be decided in sudden-death overtime. We won the tip and immediately instructed DJ to setup the play to Brandon in the post. The opposing coach, however, made the necessary adjustment and had assigned a better defender on Brandon, thus preventing DJ getting the ball to his desired teammate. However, the defensive adjustment left Daniel covered by a different player, and as DJ dribbled worriedly in hopes of finding Brandon wide-open, there was Daniel all alone in front of the basket.
“Pass it to Daniel” I shouted out to DJ, and he did just that. “Shoot it! Shoot it! SHOOT IT!!!!!” That’s when everything slowed down. The next couple of seconds played out in super slow motion as Daniel pivoted to his left, looked up at the hoop, and let the ball fly. All I heard was my heart beat. THUMP THUMP …… THUMP THUMP …… THUMP THUMP. The ball hit the front of the iron, took an excruciating bounce upwards and found its way into the basket and through the net.
Back on May 3rd, I wrote about my experience with Daniel’s first ever basket in a game. I mentioned how it took everything to keep me from running out on the court and hugging him. Well, we had just won the championship. Daniel, with his soft shot, had just won the championship, and run out on the court and hug him is exactly what I did. I picked him up, his smile competing in size with mine, and gave him a big kiss. My heart just wanted to burst and I was just elated with pride and joy. It was amazing and inexplicable, and it was a feeling I will never ever forget.
And as I look back on the many, many high’s in my life, I know they will always take a back seat to the high’s of watching my kids succeed and the absolute and blessed pleasure that comes from being a dad.
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