To be honest - the greatest gift I ever received in my life was from God - when he gave me the gift of George and Harriet Marion as my parents. Even with that greatest gift - I received a wonderful gift from my dad, George Marion, the gift of laughter.
Daddy loved a good laugh. He loved a good joke, and he was a master of telling the good joke. But he also was a master of the humor you notice. He saw humor in every situation. He could break out in a belly laugh that would start a whole room laughing, even if they never heard the joke.
He gave me that gift. I love to laugh. I find humor in the strangest situations. Laughter is my safe space. It is where I find comfort and hope.
Two stories to illustrate Daddy's ability to laugh.
1) A colleague of Daddy's was retiring from the Waterfront Commission. I knew that Daddy wanted to go, but the task of getting him there and back would be too much for Mommy. Cecil and I planned our visit to New Jersey so that we could drive them over to Manhattan and bring them home. It was quite an adventure. I managed the drive to Staten Island pretty well, only having to ask a policeman directions once to get to the Staten Island ferry. The drive home was an entirely different experience. I got lost on Staten Island. I found the very worst neighborhoods on Staten Island to get lost in. Dad was a nervous wreck in the back seat, and I was a nervous wreck behind the wheel. Cecil tried to help me find my way, and I finally found the way home. While I was drinking a much needed glass of wine with Mommy, and Daddy was having a cup of tea, and Cecil was having a beer, my brother-in-law stopped in to stay the night, as it was too late to head back to the Poconos. Daddy told the story of me being lost on Staten Island. But instead of being a scary story, it was the funniest story I ever heard. Mommy and Cecil and I were laughing until we cried as Daddy told the story, and so was Mike.
2) As Daddy's Alzheimer's worsened, he had a harder and harder time sharing his stories. He and Mommy were visiting one year, and he wanted to share a story about something that happened with a friend of his. He couldn't remember the friend's name. Mommy tried to help by suggesting different people, and Daddy kept saying, no, not him, no, not him. When Mommy finally got the right name, Daddy started laughing. If you knew my Daddy, you know the laugh. The one that you had to join in on. The 100% infectious laugh. When he finally stopped laughing enough to explain, he said, "Now, I forgot the story!" Which set off another round of laughing.
And that is the gift I got from my Daddy. The gift to retell an experience as a funny story instead of what it really was. The gift to find the humor in what you are losing, instead of finding the sorrow.
This Father's Day, like every Father's Day, I miss my Daddy. But I will laugh as I remember him. I will laugh as I tell his stories and stories of him. Because I will never disrespect the greatest gift that God gave me, the gift of George and Harriet Marion as my parents.
