Little things I remember

• How his eyes were bright blue
• His immature sense of humor, even in his fifties
• The way we would eat dinner together in the living room
• All the times he read me bedtime stories before tucking me in
• His love for sports, like hockey, wrestling, basketball and baseball
• I remember him watching African trail cams and eagle nest cameras fondly
• The way we would watch Beavis and Butthead every New Years
• The smell of maxwell house coffee
• The sound of the theme to the weather channel
• The smell of coffee, tobacco and aftershave
• When he would read me the night before christmas every year, on the night before christmas

My Dad - An Essay

Written 2025/09/14

Richard, Rick, Ricky, or as I liked to call him, dad, was the father of one child (me), and the common law husband to Christina, also known as my mother. This is an essay about my memories of him.

If I started from the absolute beginning, I would be here all day, but here is what I remember of my father’s personal history. Dad was born to a French-Canadian family of five, and put up for adoption shortly after. Adopted by my Newfoundlander grandmother, she raised him in a comfortable household in Bowmanville, Ontario.

When my dad was in his thirties, he dated a woman who was pregnant from a previous relationship, and he took to parenting the baby girl as his own. After the two broke up, he continued to care for her. In 2001, he dated a woman that he had bonded with over long phone calls, and shortly afterwards, I was born.

For fourteen wonderful years, my father took care of me the way a farmer tends to their fruiting crops, playing with me, reading to me, making sure I did well in school. Despite the ups and downs of life, I have many positive memories of him that I wish to share.

Dad was a man worth remembering, and I am here to explain why I believe this. This essay will cover my childhood experiences, as well as interpretations of why they were important to me.

My dad loved and cared for me deeply, one of the ways this came through was his bedtime stories. A nightly feature of our bedtime standard, my dad would let me play with my toys for a while, then make me choose a book, and read it to me before tucking me into bed. One of the most significant aspects of this arrangement was his tendency to read to me in silly voices, ascribing different personalities to each character. This was important to me because this is remembered fondly by me as an exceptionally intimate showing of my father’s love and dedication to making his daughter laugh.

On the note of routine, my dad had a very strict one. In the morning he would wake up and drink coffee, check the weather, and read the news. During lunch he would visit my grandmother, who lived just one apartment away, and at night after dinner, he would go for a walk around the building, which he claimed helped alleviate his back pain. This strict adherence to routine is significant to me because it is a reflection of my own tendencies, as I too have a strict day to day routine.

My dad not only cared for his family, but for the people around him. Feeling victimized by the world did not prevent him from doing good deeds. This is a story I think encapsulates both of these examples. When I was about ten years old, I was watching Ren and Stimpy on the bedroom television when I heard sirens outside. Upon running outside, I was faced with a firetruck and a crowd around the house next to ours. Turns out my father was doing that nightly walk when he noticed that our neighbor’s backyard barbecue had begun burning the back of the house, he promptly pounded on the door and ordered our neighbors to evacuate while the emergency services were called. My father also refused any reward for his actions, which stood out to me because of the act’s selflessness.

To bring me back to my main point, I do think my dad is a man worth remembering. On one faithful night, his strict adherence to routine combined with his empathy for others to save lives as well as an admittedly beautiful house. I think my perspective matters because people need to understand how important he was to me. In conclusion, I love you, dad.

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