What are your strongest memories of your father?

His favorite song was Louis Armstrong’s “Hello Dolly”.

He dances to heavy metal

I have a picture in my head of my dad, standing on the top of the stairs, crying on the phone, the day my mom had a HUGE heartattack.
Of all the fantastic memories I have of my dad, THAT’S the strongest one… :P

He’s out in the backyard mowing. My mom is out there with him and they are arguing. My brother and I are watching them from the living room window. Suddenly dad swings out and punches my mom in the face, twice. There are a hundred more stories like this.

He is an alcoholic, abusive douche who has never even seen my two youngest children. I hope he chokes to death on his own blood.

20 years of Verbal and emotional abuse

I love my dad to death, but what I can remember the most accurately about him is when he left to live with my uncle for a few months. He called me across the street to him, and he was crying. Only time Ive ever seen him cry.
Im not saying this so it seems bad or sad or whatever, just stating that its my most prominent memory. I do indeed have incredibly happy ones as well.

I’ve only seen my dad cry once. When our puppy was in the hospital in and oxygen box because he got attacked by a german shepard. He didn’t sobb but tears were in his eyes. Buy thats the only time I’ve seen him cry

The smell of coffee, cigarettes, and beer evoke very strong memories of my father.

My Dad is a very social guy and likes to be the center of attention. Whenever we’re together in a large group, he’s the “story teller”. A barber for almost 50 years, involved in coaching a local championship Lacrosse team for a number of years, he knows a lot of people ‘round town. Even when we travel (across Canada/States), we often bump into people that he knows.

<—- (and up) that would be a picture of my Dad

The good: Dad tickling my sister and me until we peed our pants. Dad always taking us on biking, canoeing, and camping adventures. Dad doing a million funny things a day, ex: I walked by him in the kitchen one day and he was waving… at no one. I asked him what he was doing, and he said he was practicing his Pope wave.

The bad: Dad coming home from the hospital after driving drunk into a fire hydrant at 60mph on a 25 mph road. Dad’s horrible bouts of depression- crying, banging his head against the wall, punching himself in the face, and trying to hid it from his daughters. He would never hurt his family, but it always pained us anyway to see him like that.

My dad and I are theatre/concert buddies. I have seen many, many stage shows and gigs and I would say 95% of the time I was with my dad. He introduced me to the theatre and most of the music that I enjoy today.

My strongest memories of my father:
How hard he worked.
How young he was when he had his first heart attack (42).
How young he was when he died (53).
How proud he was of me when I graduated (both my parents dropped out of High School).
His getting cussed out by Sandy Kolfax.
The practical jokes he would play on my Mom.
His singing as he made breakfast.
His love for music.
His being dressed up for Lodge night.
His tenderness when his mother had both legs amputated, then developed huge, terrible bed-sores.
How I knew when he died, that I always let him know that I loved him, and he always let me know he loved me.

My strongest memory of my father is of holding his hand; both when I was a little girl and we walked down to check on the new baby chicks in the coop and when he was nearly 90 and in the nursing home. He had such a strong firm grip even at the end and such a genuine interest in me and my life.

My dad loved halloween. We would carve several pumpkins, decorate and he would try scare the kids in the neighborhood, every year. It didn’t work, but he tried. :)

My dad’s birthday was Christmas Eve. He never asked for much, but every year he would get a bottle of Old Spice Aftershave and several Chapsticks – black label kind. Every year, “Well alright! How’d you know? I was just about out of both.” I’ll miss hearing that this year.

All-time favorite, seeing him with my children. Nothing made me happier.

Raging temper, abusive alcoholic, mean in general…. Among other things. Not a good person.

My dad was always the boss of the family, but showed his love in many ways. He was a do-it-your-self Renaissance man. I wanted a horse very badly when I was a child, and he bought a bunch of bicycle parts and made bikes for all three of us. He painted mine the color of a Palomino horse, complete with a silky white mane and tail. Sis got a pink, frilly one, and the one for Brother was painted in Army camo.

Mine was when I was about eight. They had a family day on board his ship, a Battle class Destroyer, and I still remember him on the bridge, in full dress whites, giving orders for the ship to get under way. We all went out for a half day cruise, the ship’s crew and their families. Even though years later I wore the same uniform, that one memory stands out. Even now if I go to see him (he is living on board his yacht in Deception Bay – about an hour away) he will be wearing white overalls and one of his old Navy caps.

My father was the most generous person that I ever knew and he was very protective and loving with our family. Along with being very social and funny with everyone, he was very sincere and direct when he meant business about something and I respected him greatly for his demeanor and for all the very valuable life lessons I learned from him as I was growing up. He passed away from cancer in 2000 and I still miss him very much to this day.

The Good: His love of music. I remember sitting in the den, for what seemed like hours, listening to records with him. The Rolling Stones, Weather Report, Yes, Miles Davis, Led Zeppelin, Crosby, Stills & Nash…and on and on. He had these white jumbo can-style headphones and a great system. I was about seven or eight.

The Bad: Dad begging my mother to forgive him for the umpteenth time for some imagined or minor slight my insane mother would blow up into world war three. He would cry and beg and she would torture him for hours – threatening to leave. He seemed so small then.

The Good: the summer days we spent on the river in his boat, fishing. The smell of cigarettes and beer. Certain landmarks around my hometown. The day he reprimanded me for killing a snake he made me realize that snakes are to be respected, not feared or killed for no reason.. Louis La`Mour paperbacks. The day he left work to pick me up at school because I was sick.

The Bad The day he beat the holy crap out of my Mom for talking to her sister on the phone all goddamn day. The day he called me a faggot for playing with a ladies scarf. Watching him drink himself to death the last two years of his life. The day he gave up and committed suicide still pisses me off. He was the strongest man I knew when I was a kid and to see him take the chickenshit way out upset me. It still does.

There are few things as personal as your relationship with your parents. Thank you all for sharing. Those with sad stories: I am so sorry. Those with warm memories: remember you were blessed.
Lurve all around!

My dads a carpenter. I always hugged him as a kid when he came home from work. He always smelled like sawdust. The smell of sawdust reminds me of dad.

My dad worked in a tire shop. When I go to get new tires now, I breathe that rubber smell in, and always think of my dad.

He was so funny. I remember him making jokes and he also had a gift for making something like stuffed animals seem a live.

My dad has a song for every situation sad happy or funny! I don’t know where he gets them from but we could be talking about anything and he can come up with a song its amazing!!

@sakura my dad also seems to have a song for every occassion. It annos the hell out of me in an endearing kind of way!

Unfortunately I don’t have as many memories of my dad as I would like. He passed away on my mom’s birthday when I was only 9 years old.

My most vivid memory of the entire event in my life isn’t even really about him, but about how difficult it was for my dog. We always said that she took it harder than anyone else in our family, and she never went for a walk ever again, sat in the corner of the living room for 2 straight months, and would only eat sporadically every few days.

My best memory of my actual dad was when he bet me that I couldn’t finish a 1L bottle of orange crush on the day that we left the cottage one summer. I did it, but then on the drive home down the bendy cottage road, I threw up orange crush all over the leather interior of his BMW. He didn’t even get mad – he just laughed and laughed and told me it was okay.

@brettvdb: That’s a great story.

but I feel so bad for the poor dog

My Dad always worked with cool stuff—all kinds of scientific equipment deep in basement labs. It was always kind of awesome and mysterious to visit him at work. Sometimes he would tell the neatest adventure stories (with him as the star) after dinner as we were sitting around the table, maybe eating dessert. His work also took him to places all over the world, and we got to go with him a lot of the time. He had a house built for us to live in, just as his father did. I thought that was a cool thing to do, and I’ve always felt like I’m supposed to do that, too, although I haven’t.

He also never tired of telling me of this dream he had when I was born. He was approaching the bassinet, which he believed I was in, and there was a sign on the bassinet that said “genius.” I was never to match up to this idea, which he never said directly, but also never praised me. In fact, he often scorned me for my lack of manners or what he called my wiseguy ways. He never took me seriously as a youth. So I don’t remember too much specific. I think I’ve blocked it out—or maybe it’s just my bad memory. My strongest memories are kind of general impressions.

My Dad was a gentle soul. We were a large family of 8 kids. When we got sick or were feeling down, he would come by our bedside, put his cool comforting hand on our foreheads, and gently ask us how we were feeling. He would calmly talk to us and make us feel specially well taken care of, better than any doctor, medicare program, or medicine could ever do. He is sorely missed and was loved by his family. We were rich, though by today’s standards poor as church mice..what a gift he was.

Not great ones, I’m afraid. He’s an alcoholic who was mentally and physically abusive and even though it wasn’t an every day thing, those are my strongest memories. Hence, I don’t really speak to my dad anymore.

Whenever I picture him he’s walking out the door, all dressed great, smelling nice, putting that fedora on his head. Then at six pm, walking in looking tired, mom hugging him then he puts on a record, sings along quietly and drinks a beer. We have dinner together, he watches tv, laughing and drinking beer then the whole thing repeats. For 46 years starting before I was born.
My heart goes out to the posters above who had to see such terrible violence. I don’t think I could have handled it and I am truly sorry.