Theresa Santoro

My dad left this earth on September 8, 2008, and every holiday that has passed, is the first since he is gone. I have mourned loss before, but the "firsts" get you no matter what. Mother's Day was hard, because I would call my dad and tell him "Happy Mother's Day Dad! You were the best mom I ever had!" He would give a hearty laugh and say "You're so bad"... But he knew the meaning behind the greeting.

For a few years after my mother left the home to pursue other interests, it was my dad and I left to raise the 5 remaining kids, the one grandfather, and others that would come through our revolving door.

It was my dad that spoke to me about wedding plans, and my dad was the one to soothe my broken heart the first time a boy broke it. My dad was the parent that got up at six in the morning to drive me to the high school twenty minutes away, because I missed the bus that would get me there in time for the parade.

Family lore says I was daddy's girl from the very first day of life. As the story goes, my mother would put me in the cradle (my dad handcrafted for all eleven children) to sleep. As soon as my dad would come through the door at the end of the day, I would perk my little head up to see my favorite person in the world. My dad. Of course I can't remember that time, but my earliest memories of my dad are these:

At the age of about 2 or 3, we went to see fireworks in Long Beach, somewhere along Ocean Blvd. I remember this, because you could see the Queen Mary across the water. Anyway, there were those sparklers that people held, and twirled and they scared the daylights out of me... My dad saw this, and scooped me up in his arms and told me not to be scared. "Hold my hand, and watch me. See... there is nothing to be scared of. Watch me write your name..." I have remembered that my whole life on every 4th of July.

When it was time to learn to tie my shoe, my dad sat with me patiently on our red painted kitchen porch. Practiced, and practiced until I got it right. He acted as if I was the first he taught, when I am number seven in the line of kids!

When it was time to leave 1st grade for 2nd, I was scared, and I just did not want to go. He tousled my braids, and said... "It will be so much fun in second grade, you won't believe how much you will learn!" He said it would be so much better than 1st, and it was.

When I left at the age of eleven to sail around the world, at the airport, my dad held tight to my hand, and offered to go with me to Pago Pago American Samoa. I told him I could do it, but I never forgot the offer, and it wasn't until recently that I realized he was probably as scared as I was to put me on the plane in the first place!

When I came back from around the world a year later, it was my dad that helped me to re-enter the atmosphere. He taught me to cook, and for many years he and I cooked every holiday dinner together.

On my wedding day, my dad held onto me tight as we walked the aisle, and it is said that the big strong man shed a tear or two!

My dad was always there for me. Good or bad, thick or thin. It wasn't always perfect, but I knew my dad loved me. Before he lost so much, we were able to share that with one another.

It was humbling for me to be there for my dad, when it came time to bury his mother. I took care of all of the details, and as I look back it was then that I started to see the signs of Alzheimers. Dad was scared. He wanted me to identify her one last time, as he just couldn't do it. My strong dad needed me. But I did just as he taught me. I did not shame him, or embarrass him. I just showed him the way, and touched his arm in the way he always touched mine, to say it would be ok.

The last years were hardest. My dad was quick to fear and temper. He did not know who I was. But as I sit here with tears in my eyes, I know that it is ok. Because the gifts my dad gave me are gifts to pass to my kids. Moral ethics, an extra seat at the table,random acts of kindness, patriotism, and loyalty.

My dad hated prejudice of any kind. He would not tolerate it, especially from his children. We were lucky to receive that gift.

I can see my dad now in his three piece Brooks Brothers suit. Smell his Old Spice, and look down at his polished brown wing tips. That is the dad I remember. And every morning before he would go off to the trenches of Los Angeles Unified School District as a well respected Principal, he would take one last look in the mirror and say "Don't mess with me... I'm a star!"

He will always be my star. I miss you dad!

Happy Father's Day! Happy Parenting!