I received word this morning – that my dad had passed. Thinking on him and life in general today. This isn’t just another tribute. It’s raw, real, and about a dad who was as much a mess as he was a mentor. We had our highs, our lows, and a ton of in-betweens. Click the link if you’re up for a genuine trip down memory lane.
Time possesses an uncanny nature. Paired closely with memory, certain moments of my life feel as vivid as if they transpired just yesterday. Consider the way a new experience lingers: the distinctness of a smell, the sensation of taste, the vibrant images, and the echoes of sounds. Even with decades separating those memories from the present, some of them retain a crystal-clear clarity. Today, such memories wash over me, because this morning, my father drew his last breath.
His departure wasn’t unexpected. Years of battling a degenerative brain disease—attributed to his exposure to Agent Orange during the Vietnam War—had taken their toll. I’ve witnessed his decline firsthand. He once flourished in the realm of programming, proficient in Fortran, C-Sharp, and various database languages, his last professional stint being at LabCorp in Greensboro, NC. This very man who instilled in me a love for mathematics, the same man who had me helping adults with 1040EZ forms at the age of seven, struggled to play dominos just a year ago, unable to make simple sums. (March 25, 2021)
Last year, during his 72nd birthday celebration, while surrounded by my children, he couldn’t recognize any of us. Yet, with his enduring wit, he smiled and said, “Of course I know who you are… you are You!” He maintained his playful nature, always ready with a quip or sarcastic remark, followed by that inimitably goofy grin.
I grew up with my father as a cornerstone of my existence. My parents divorced when I was but an infant, and my mother vanished from my life when I was eight. Consequently, I often find myself saying, “My dad always said…” dispensing either wisdom or whimsy. While he was incredibly erudite and smart, he, like all of us, had his share of missteps. Often, as a child, I bore the brunt of their repercussions, which took time to reconcile as I matured. Yet, his shortcomings were vastly outnumbered by his virtues.
His own father never showed physical affection, so my dad ensured I never missed a hug. He was my Little League baseball coach, my tennis and basketball instructor, and my chess mentor. His guiding principles significantly influenced how I raised my own children.
Proudly, he was a veteran who served in Vietnam. He returned with riveting tales and, unfortunately, the shadows of PTSD. His life “before Brian” was filled with adventures: concerts, fast cars, an extended family (he was one of 11 siblings), hard work, pool games (he was quite the shark), and mischievous escapades with friends.
But we managed to have a lot of fun in the midst of the crazy too.
Dad taught me the value of hard work and the knack for turning it into a game. That lesson has stayed with me.
I won’t inundate you with more memories on this nostalgic journey. Today, as I grapple with loss, I reflect not so much on his physical absence—his true self departed some years ago—but on the echoes of a past intertwined with him. It’s a sentimentality born not from grief over his departure, but from the reverberations of times gone by.
Brian Sykes