A Letter to Dad
Dear Daddy,
It has been a busy week. We’ve been talking and thinking of you – each in our own way. Aidan told me he had a dream that you were floating in an inner tube in the water at the beach – maybe you were happy to be able to be free and enjoying the waves – (probably as happy as you could ever be at the beach.) Maybe you were letting us all know you are at peace.Like Aidan’s dream, you are in our hearts uniquely – each of us with our own story with prologue, plot and epilogue. Each story is the gift of our time with you, the part of your soul that is within us and the lessons you taught – not by lecture — but by the way you lived and the example that you gave us.
As a child, my memory is peppered with scenes of you helping someone … with pro-bono legal advice, finding a home, a place to stay, a job or getting an education or into a drug rehab – addressing needs large or small. It always seemed these personal stories had some twist to the challenge – some level of injustice that needed to be righted. The degree of the need or complexity of the challenge was not a concern — you acted swiftly without a second thought in some cases, not really knowing before it was resolved how the story would end. Your compassion for others drove your actions – whether you could afford to help or not — you offered the skills, the funds, the knowledge or relationships to address the need.
Time has muted the details for me. I have vague recollections of accompanying you on these road trips to deliver a check or papers or just to visit a lonely friend. I know we could draw up a long list of people impacted by the generosity of your spirit — many of them here today– those who were on the receiving end of you giving of yourself without any expectations of something in return. Daddy, I admire your compassion for people and your acceptance of all people in a real way and I can only hope I could live up to the high standard you have set for us. You lived the Gospel, Dad, and most importantly, you did so humbly in a way that conveyed to us that this was simply the right way to act.
While humble with regard to your good deeds, you were understandably proud of your achievements athletically both as a young man in high school and college and then again, as a “master” – in the “over 40” age group. Dubbed the “silver fox” at your 40th birthday, you could outrun most of your much younger competitors and most definitely me! Speaking of which…thanks for staying with me during the 15 k Parkway Classic when the race staff told me the finish line was “just around the corner” only to find that the finish was at least another quarter mile and an “S” curve ahead. You and I ran together, while Ron ran ahead – he wasn’t ready to commit.
I like the story of you and Dan delivering Sunday papers – it epitomizes both the dutiful father and the proud runner. You had just returned from your morning run – probably with icicles down your neck – and you took the car to help Dan with the route. Finished and ready to settle into the Sunday Inquirer magazine yourself, you turned the cover to find a large picture of you during your most recent race which must have finished with several loops on a track. It must have been your Irish luck that not only was the picture prominently displayed in the magazine but the leader of the race showed in the background. The Inquirer Magazine just happened to snap the picture of you on an earlier loop with the race winner on his later (and final ?? loop), making it look like you were ahead! And of course, knowing now that your picture was in this edition, you and Dan went dumpster diving to retrieve the extra papers for safe keeping and appropriate distribution. Well, to be clear….DAN went dumpster diving, while you DIRECTED.
Daddy, I will miss your impish nature like your love of sweets and ice cream. You created the original “McSorley bowl of ice cream” — a term reserved for a dish filled to the brim. I can see your sad pout when you couldn’t have a second bowl. June says that even the grandkids knew where to go for a treat because you always had a stash…
And I have rich memories of the boyish Pop-pop – the one who played passionately against Alex and Aidan to defeat the Emperor Zurg on the Buzz Lightyear Space Ranger spin at the Magic Kingdom. The Pop-pop wrestling the younger kids in your lap , the giggling and squeals that accompanied them….and more recently, your chats each Saturday morning just hearing about the day or the events of the week.
Growing up, you were larger than life. We couldn’t walk from your office to the cleaners or the hardware store without several hellos and stops for a chat. It seemed everyone knew you whether from the City, the law practice, running, church or wherever – everyone knew Paul McSorley. You were so much a part of the community you were like the Mayor of Fox Chase. Apparently, this experience continued beyond Fox Chase like when you and June were on your honeymoon in San Francisco and a runner went by and yelled, “Hi Paul!.” Surprised, June asked why he didn’t stop seeing as you were in San Francisco and unphased, you said, “Well, he was running…he was probably timing himself.”
As an adult, the larger than life Dad became the man I admire — and even that sounds so inadequate. I so respect your learned approach to any issue, your commitment to justice and compassion and your firm belief in our representative government, even if at times the candidates frustrated you – frustrated us all… Oh Dad, you would not have been pleased this election day…
Daddy, thank you for passing on your focus and discipline. What a gift you gave us all – to decide what we want, commit and build and plan and execute. You would be proud to know that I see it now budding in my boys as they attack training for cross country and lacrosse in the same way you trained for a marathon or committed to give up alcohol. Determination and focus are the elements of success!
Dad, no one can tell an Irish story quite like you. Did you hear the one about the lapsed catholic who decided to go to confession? Seeing a bottle of scotch and a glass with ice when he got into the confessional, he thought, “Wow, how things have changed.” And as he began to make his confession, he commented to the priest who said, “Get out of there, you are on the wrong side of the box!”
But some of your best qualities are hard to describe in simple terms – they are elusive only because they are so special…– like your ability to think positively and have faith that problems would work themselves out. Not in a polyanna sort of way but a genuine belief – or at least that’s what you conveyed to the rest of us. This was especially true in times of tight household budgets when you would figure out a way to do the things that you knew were important – planned or not – knowing that the budget may be strained. You took it one day at a time to figure things out. You had to drawn on that skill many times during my youth – figuring out funding for college, new babies and other big expenses that come with life’s surprises.
OR…like your silent and unspoken way of showing how much you cared….like the time you made sure that I had a card or letter EVERY day that I was away at 2-week camp at Camp Laughing Water. You had to start mailing the cards in advance to make sure I had one for the first mail call….and I was the envy of every kid at the camp because I got mail EVERY day for 15 days…. Now, as a parent, I SO appreciate the attention this took to accomplish your end.
Daddy, you are at peace now. You are free from the “leash” as you called it, from the oxygen cord and the human body that was failing. You are free again to be the marathon runner, the playful Pop-pop, the writer, and storyteller, the DAD we love so much.
I think you know you are beyond well loved and all of us here are sad to see you leave us.
But you are reunited with so many that you have missed for many years — Frank, Annie, Winnie, Pat,…just to name a few – during my last visit a few weeks ago you told me how you missed Annie and all the others…they welcome you now. Remember, Daddy that I love you and there are lots of people here who will now miss you….