Elena 
Mr. Pete had an interesting start to Father’s Day weekend. He had 8 tons of limestone delivered so that we could put it all over our small backyard so that we could start bricking it in. We’ve tried sod. We’ve tried grass seed suitable to shady conditions. Nothing worked. So he gave up and decided we were just going to do something different so that we could enjoy our little outdoor space.
He spent all morning procuring brick and laying it. But in the afternoon, he put on his Grandpa hat and took Miss C. to her very first ever birthday party for a friend. It was at a gymnastics center. So he sat there for and watched Miss C and her friends jump, run, twirl and spin until they were exhausted. Then they had cake and opened girlie presents. Miss C. had a blast and Grandpa Pete patiently sat there and watched his granddaughter have a good time.
That’s the kind of guy I married. He can fix almost anything, isn’t afraid to try new things, but is always there for his kids and his granddaughter. I am a special kind of blessed woman to have such a man and we’re going to honor him this Father’s Day.
When I was growing up, Father’s Day was a little awkward. My father didn’t live with us – he lived half a continent away. He spoke English as a second language. I could count the times I visited with my dad on my fingers. My grandmother hated him, my mother’s feelings for him were all over the emotional spectrum. But she wanted us to “love” our father. To me it was like loving the planet of Mars – a place I knew existed but had never visited and wasn’t even sure I wanted to. It was very odd.
My father figure was my grandpa. He was the man who let his pregnant daughter move back into his home with her toddler daughter in tow – only a couple of years after the fancy church wedding. I’m sure it broke his heart.
As I grew up and saw my father a couple of other times I didn’t see him as a bad man or a villain. He just wasn’t a very good family man when it came to having his own family. And then, of course, there was this – the legacy that keeps on giving. I don’t hate him, and I even thought he was charming in some ways. I just don’t think of him in terms of “Father.” But still, in my heart of hears, I know that I still feel love for him.
My grandfather was my father figure. He changed our diapers and played with us. I have a vague memory of running into the living room to show him that I was wearing “Big girl underpants” and him saying, “You sure are honey.” I don’t know why I remember it, but I do.
He taught us how to garden, he let us drive the tractor, he let us hit him with water balloons. He went to innumerable dance recitals and band concerts and football games. Thinking back on it all now- the man was a saint.
And all he wanted in exchange was for us to say “Goodie, goodie, goodie” when the Tigers won, and he wanted to share his stories when he was driving and hold our hands when we stopped by to visit. He loved us so much.
I can’t visit his graveside today. We went to his very last sibling’s funeral in the spring. We did that to represent our branch of the family tree – his branch. I think of him often. A few years ago I had some Gregorian masses said for him. On Father’s Day I’ll put his photo in a prominent place. I also changed my Facebook profile picture to this one, of me, walking down the aisle at my wedding with my dad on one side, and my grandpa on the other.
They say girls will marry a man like their dad. Mr. Pete becomes more and more like my grandpa every year. He’s involved in the church, he sings bass, he fixes stuff, he plays with the kids, he helps people out – he’s just like my grandpa.
On this Father’s Day, I’d like to share this final story about my grandpa. Four years after we married, Mr. Pete left to go to trade school in Wisconsin. He was coming home to visit me in Michigan when his car blew a rod and he was stuck in Kalamazoo.
I didn’t know what to do so I drove out to my grandpa’s farm and told him that my husband’s car died and he was stranded. Without saying a word, he got his truck, his tools, and a heavy chain and we headed out to save Mr. Pete. Because that’s what you do when you’re a parent or a grandparent – you help your kids.