Actions Speak Louder Than Words . . .
Posted: Thursday, June 16, 2011
by Brianna Popsickle
Actions speak louder than words, and so is the case with my dad whom I’ve always thought of as my Gentle Giant. Well over six feet tall and hearing impaired, my dad has always been a man of few words. But despite that, I learned a lot from him.
He quit school at the age of fourteen to become a milkman, making deliveries with a horse and buggy in the wee hours of the morning. By the time he was married and my two sisters and I had come along, he had his own milk truck. He’d be gone long before we’d awake each day and arrive home in time for a family dinner each night.
When the dairy closed unexpectedly, leaving him without work and the health benefits and pension he’d worked so long for, times were tough. In addition to the dairy closing, my sister developed blood poisoning and became so ill, a priest was called in to give her last rites. Also, during that year, my mother lost her best friend to breast cancer and several months later the woman’s husband (my father’s best friend) died of a heart attack. Soon after, my grandfather (my mother’s father) passed away as well.
Once during dinner, my mother started to cry and ran from the table. She was missing her father. My dad followed her and I followed him. He wrapped his arms around her and as she sobbed he assured her everything would be okay. He had a way of making you feel everything would turn out, and it usually did.
He took on several jobs to make ends meet. Although he must have been exhausted he never complained. Once though, when he thought he was alone, I saw him sitting on the edge of his bed, head in hands, crying. It’s a moment I’ll never forget. In that instant I realized my Gentle Giant, my dad, was human after all.
Despite his long hours, he’d make time for family and friends. I remember him playing guitar and singing songs like She’ll Be Coming Around the Mountain and King of the Road, as everyone joined in. He bought me my first guitar and paid for my music lessons. I remember thinking that even with lessons I’d never play as well as he did, despite the fact he was self-taught.
My dad’s work ethic and determination paid off when he became the manager of a small grocery store. He did so well his store became the training center for managers whom he would train. It was quite an accomplishment for someone with little formal education and it taught me that with work and perseverance anything was possible.
My dad was a caring man and hated to see anyone or anything suffer. When I was sick he’d rub his big hand back and forth across my forehead to help me sleep. The truth was it drove me nuts and I wanted to tell him to stop but I didn’t have the heart. I knew he was doing all he could think of to make me feel better.
He was the same when it came to animals. More than once I’d find him putting a dish of water out for an injured bird, or carrots and lettuce for baby rabbits that had nested under our deck. Once, when I was in my teens, the two of us were sitting quietly on the porch when suddenly he asked, “Do you see that?” He pointed upwards and there in the sky the clouds formed a perfect outline of an angel. I remembered being surprised he would notice such a thing, revealing his sensitive side to me.
Nothing displayed his caring, gentle nature more than when he brought his mother-in-law to live with us in her later years. He converted our living room into a bedroom and always made her feel at home. He’d joke with her and play cards to help her pass the time. He cared for her as though she were his own mother. He had the patience of a saint, which came in handy, sharing a house and single bathroom with five women.
Soon after my parents retired, my mother became ill, making it increasingly difficult for her to do the simplest things. He took on the cooking, cleaning and shopping and although he had health problems of his own, rarely mentioned them. His hearing worsened over the years. Sadly, I often saw him left out of conversations as he struggled to read lips. Arthritis sometimes made it difficult for him to get around but he continued to do what he had to in order to keep the household running.
As my mother’s health declined, he became her primary caregiver, and promised that as long as he was around she would never have to go to a nursing home.
When my daughter accepted a job in my parent’s town, they opened their home to her. My father took her under his wing, setting out her breakfast dishes, sweeping off her car on cold winter mornings, and cooking for her. Caring for others came naturally to him.
My mother’s condition worsened and she was hospitalized. I went to visit, stopping in the hallway as I caught a glimpse of my parents in her room. Married fifty-eight years, they’d come through a lot together and had accomplished so much.
On this particular day, my mother was very weak. As she lay there my father stroked her forehead. He assured her everything would be okay, as he’d done many times in the past.
As the tears ran down my cheeks I realized that often actions speak louder than words. I’d learned a lot from this man, but probably nothing greater than the power of love.
For this reason, and more, I’ll be forever grateful for my Gentle Giant.
This Article has been viewed 1,345 times. (Not updated in real-time.)
Top-level comments on this article: (9 total)Wonderful article of a strong, reliable, hard working man. The good that he did obviously spread throughout your family. A Heroic effort in the quiet in nursing his loved one to their end. Your family took the brunt of human suffering with obvious sturdy poise. Bless you.Yes hard-working is one way I'd describe my dad for sure. Thank you for reading and commenting Christofer, and Happy Father's Day to you. Hope you enjoy the day!
Brianna, I agree with Christofer, a wonderful article about the strength of your dad. Our dad's were quite similar and we referred to him as a gentle giant, as well. Thank you for sharing your heart. Your family was blessed to have your dad.Remarkably my mother and father (both 80) are still with us. My mother survived a recent surgery but the doctor didn't expect her to come through what came next. They're sending her home from hospital today! She's doing two hours of physiotherapy a day and the Doctor says, once again, she's shocked him with her recovery. He said it is nothing short of a miracle and I believe him. Thanks for the kind words Avis.
This is a lovely tribute to your father, your Gentle Giant. I'm so glad I stopped to read. Thanks for writing.Thank you. I'm glad you stopped by too!
Your father was such a unique person. I am sure he had imparted certain goodness to you that you are today. You have a kind heart too, Brianna.Thank you for your kind words Hilda. It's been an interesting week reading everyone's memories of their fathers, yours included.
Thanks for reading acepinoy! :)
'My dad was a caring man and hated to see anyone or anything suffer. When I was sick he’d rub his big hand back and forth across my forehead to help me sleep. The truth was it drove me nuts and I wanted to tell him to stop but I didn’t have the heart. I knew he was doing all he could think of to make me feel better.'
*** I laughed out loud when I read this. How can you not love someone, who, although they are driving us crazy, are so kind in their intentions it makes it impossible to say "stop."
Well done Brianna.Thanks for your comment Kenny. I'm glad it gave you a laugh too. Happy Fathers Day. :)
Yes, by ones fruits you shall know them. A good article and example.Thank you. I feel very fortunate to have been blessed with my parents, as they did set a very good example.
Hi Brianna. I'm late getting to this, but wow! What a treasured gift you have to be blessed with such an amazing father. Beautiful. Just beautiful. Hugs!
oops, should be 5 stars times 2!Thanks Teresa. Yes I am blessed to have such a dad. :)
We want your comments! If you can read this, you don't have javascript enabled, so you can't use this comment system. Please enable javascript.