When my dad retired from the Navy in 1990, he was the Chief
of Staff for the Naval Meteorology and Oceanography Command, and my friend’s
call two years earlier had slightly clued me into how big of a deal he was in
his field. The week he retired only
cemented that idea. Night after night my
mom, my brother, and I were attending dinners and functions in my dad’s
honor. At the time, I’m sure there were
TV shows I wanted to watch or other activities I would have preferred being
involved in on those nights, but by the end of the week, I could see my dad was
one of the most respected men in his field.
His retirement ceremony was the largest Navy event I had ever seen, and
I had been dragged to a lot of them in my 20 years as a military
dependent.

Today, the stairway of my parents’ home is lined with all of the framed accolades my father received that week, including letters from the President, Senators, and other dignitaries. There are also framed photos of all the places he served as an executive or commanding officer, along with images of the ships he served on during war and peace times. There are military men and women still serving around the globe who worked for my dad almost 25 years later. By every account I’ve heard, my father was an excellent military officer, tough but fair. He expected a 110% effort because he gave 110% himself.
We have an ongoing joke in our family. One of us will tell a story about something
that happened at home or school during my dad’s 31 years in the Navy, and Dad
will say “I don’t remember that.” And, without fail, someone will say something
like, “I don’t know why. You were always
there.” You see, because of my dad’s
exemplary career in the Navy on ships and shore, he was gone for a large
percentage of the first half of my parents' marriage and the first half of my
life. It’s a loss for our family for
sure, but we, you, all of us, benefitted from those years he served.
My dad’s career as a Navy officer in two wars and as a
commanding officer who led the men and women who guided our country’s ships
from point A to point B around the world’s oceans is enough to make him an
American hero. But, to me, my dad is a
hero because of how he has served our family this past year. Dad has served 24 hours a day, 7 days a week
as my mom’s primary caregiver as she has battled stage three ovarian cancer
since the end of August last year.
My dad will be 78 this month, and he has been with Mom at
every step of this fight: every doctor appointment, every hard night, every
difficult day, every meal, every cancer treatment, every two-hour commute to
every medical appointment, every moment of good news, and every moment of sad
news. My brother and I have tried to be with our parents as much as possible
during this time, but Dad has been on the front line with Mom the entire
time. This time, he has always been there. My mom is still recovering, but the doctors
are encouraged and hopeful. And, we owe
a lot of her ability to survive and persevere in this painful and scary time to
our dad. That’s a hero.
So today, on Father’s Day, we remember our Dad’s service to
this country, and even more importantly, we celebrate his service to our family. Happy Father’s Day, Dad! Love, Mark

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