My Father's Last and Greatest Lesson

It was a Tuesday, and my father had an early morning meeting at work.  It was raining heavily that morning, but I only lived two blocks from school. As I was ready to leave, my father offered to give me a ride over.  He was already late, and the school was in the opposite direction from where he was supposed to be going.  Nonetheless, I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to stay dry, so I got in his car and off we went.  That ride was short.  I remember my father had a sports radio station on, but it was inaudible due to the rain pounding on the car and the windshield wiper’s frantic swooshing.  As we turned into the parking lot, I groaned.  The lane for car drop offs was a good 50 feet from the door, meaning I would have to dodge ran drops as I hurried into school.  As our car approached the front of the line, my sole focus was getting into that school as fast and as dry as possible.  I hopped out of the car, and took a few steps in the direction of the school before I heard my father’s voice.  “Hey buddy,” he said, “aren’t you gonna give me a hug?”  I was already standing in the rain, and I did not want to trudge back to the car.  I’d give him a hug later.  I said to him, “Aw dad, it raining out here.”  He gave me a smiled at me and said, “Alright, you better get in. I love you.”  Quickly, I gave him a half nod as I turned towards the school, and by the time I reached the door and looked back at the parking lot, the car was making the turn out onto the street.  That would be the last time I ever saw my father.

Nine years later, I still feel regret that I didn't take that opportunity to say a proper goodbye to my dad, that I didn't tell him I loved him. However, in my failing I learned a valuable lesson: never leave anyone without telling them how I feel. And so, as my semester draws to a close here in Washington, and I prepare to go to back to Buffalo for the summer and then on to Costa Rica in the fall, I want to thank all my friends for a great year. I'd like to especially note the people at the GW Newman Catholic Student Center for welcoming me in and helping me to grow in my faith this semester in ways I never would have dreamt possible. From the bottom of my heart, I thank God for bringing me here and allowing me the privilege of getting to know such dedicated and devout young Catholics! I look forward to seeing everyone again when I return in January!

If you could, please say a prayer today for the repose of my dad's soul. He was not without his flaws, but overall a kind and decent man who loved his family. Thank you.

R.I.P. Michael S. McHenry 9/12/1953-5/14/2003

Because we don't know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless. -Paul Bowles