Remembering Dad

My father's birthday just passed -- Saturday, April 27. He would have been 83. He passed away from cancer 20 years ago this past January.

Of the grandkids, my son remembers him best. He was ten when Grandfather died. My niece and nephew were much younger.

I have many fond memories of my dad. Sitting on his lap listening to him read the Sunday funnies before church while we waited for Mom to finish getting ready. Being his dance partner for "Frenchie Brown," the only round-dance I knew. The expression on his face the first time he held my son.

If I had to choose my fondest memory, it would have to be singing with him at Mass. I loved his booming baritone voice. He used to get teased about "leading the singing from the back of the church," although we never sat in the back.

I first learned to sing harmony standing at his side. I loved the old hymns like Amazing Grace, Alleluia, Sing to Jesus, Salve Regina, O Sacred Head Surrounded, Holy God We Praise Thy Name, Dona Nobis Pacem and Ave Maria. Before I learned to read music, we would make up the parts as we went along.

For a short period of time, when I was older, we were all on the altar at Mass together every Sunday. Dad was a Reader, with his loud clear voice. Mom was a Eucharistic Minister. I was the Cantor, leading the congregation in song but always hearing my Dad's voice above everyone else.

When Dad was sick and dying from cancer, I would sometimes sit by his side and sing to him. After awhile, he didn't have enough strength to sing. His booming voice became thin and weak. But he enjoyed listening to my voice, and I could hear him singing in my head. "Ave, ave, ave Maria! Ave, ave Maria!"

At his funeral, I decided to offer him a gift no one else could give. I sang.

Yes, I sang Amazing Grace at my father's funeral. The first verse I sang a cappella. I had asked everyone to listen for my father's voice. I don't know if they heard it, but I certainly did. That was the most difficult and the most beautiful performance I'd ever given.

I don't sing as often as I used to, but I still sing at Mass. And I still hear my dad. That which lives in our hearts can never die.

Dona nobis pacem.


This post was inspired by Jeff Muise's post remembering his mother. Thanks Jeff!