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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Death / Heartbreak / Loss
- Published: 06/04/2021
The Stature Of A Man
Born 1960, M, from Orange Park, FL, United States.jpeg)
It was cold that Friday morning March tenth two thousand six. The ground was covered with a fresh, clean layer of snow as it continued to slowly waft down from the thick blanket of silver gray clouds overhead. It was the kind of snowfall which has the tendency to stifle sounds and naturally lends itself to thoughts of home and hearth. It is perhaps a cruel coincidence such thoughts should be interrupted by the news I received that morning. My sister called to let me know my father had passed away.
As I hung up the phone the silence of that morning somehow grew more intense and held me as in a vice. The solemn contentment I was basking in just moments before lost its warmth and now left me frozen in place feeling uncertain as to what to do next. My focus then settled upon the scene which lay outside my window. What I did next was somewhat baffling, even to me. I got up, got dressed and went outside to shovel snow. All the while asking myself what are you doing? Why aren’t you upset? Why aren’t you thinking about dad? I was quite ashamed of myself. Then I looked down to begin shoveling and noticed what I was wearing. An old pair of gloves, a quilted flannel shirt somewhat tattered and buttoned all the way to the top, faded jeans and a pair of green rubber packs dad had given me. The first thing that came to mind was, oh my god he turned me into him! Then I realized it was all just an effort to remember him the way he really was!
Its times like these that make you think about the impact your father has had on your life. The time you spent together and the things he taught you as you grew up. Of course, he taught all four of his boys the standard lessons, like the difference between right and wrong. What was unique was his way of imparting these valuable life lessons.
The way we heard them went something like this:
“You don’t eat until the animals do”,
“You’ll have time for that after your chores are done”,
“Don’t be foolish”,
“I don’t give a dam what other people think, why should you”,
“If your gonna do it, do it right”,
and the always popular “When I was a boy… stories.
My father was not by any stretch of the imagination a wordsmith, but it did not matter because the most important things he impressed on us about the kind of men he wanted us to be, he imparted by example. You might sum up those efforts with something like this:
The Stature of a Man:
Is not measured in his height.
Cannot be seen in a mirror.
Is but a reflection of the friends he has made and the respect he has earned.
Is measured in the love he gives and the love he receives in return.
May be seen in the reflection of his children’s eyes when they tell him they
want to grow up to be just like him.
The true stature of this man is now only visible in the reflections that were his life. I think back on the many moments I witnessed as a child that made me proud to be his son. His work ethic, honesty, quiet demeanor, and strength of character shall forever be a part of me.
So, as his son when I talk to my children I will say, when I was a boy… I had the privilege of knowing a man, a very big man, and that man was my father!
The Stature Of A Man(Steven W Kimball)
It was cold that Friday morning March tenth two thousand six. The ground was covered with a fresh, clean layer of snow as it continued to slowly waft down from the thick blanket of silver gray clouds overhead. It was the kind of snowfall which has the tendency to stifle sounds and naturally lends itself to thoughts of home and hearth. It is perhaps a cruel coincidence such thoughts should be interrupted by the news I received that morning. My sister called to let me know my father had passed away.
As I hung up the phone the silence of that morning somehow grew more intense and held me as in a vice. The solemn contentment I was basking in just moments before lost its warmth and now left me frozen in place feeling uncertain as to what to do next. My focus then settled upon the scene which lay outside my window. What I did next was somewhat baffling, even to me. I got up, got dressed and went outside to shovel snow. All the while asking myself what are you doing? Why aren’t you upset? Why aren’t you thinking about dad? I was quite ashamed of myself. Then I looked down to begin shoveling and noticed what I was wearing. An old pair of gloves, a quilted flannel shirt somewhat tattered and buttoned all the way to the top, faded jeans and a pair of green rubber packs dad had given me. The first thing that came to mind was, oh my god he turned me into him! Then I realized it was all just an effort to remember him the way he really was!
Its times like these that make you think about the impact your father has had on your life. The time you spent together and the things he taught you as you grew up. Of course, he taught all four of his boys the standard lessons, like the difference between right and wrong. What was unique was his way of imparting these valuable life lessons.
The way we heard them went something like this:
“You don’t eat until the animals do”,
“You’ll have time for that after your chores are done”,
“Don’t be foolish”,
“I don’t give a dam what other people think, why should you”,
“If your gonna do it, do it right”,
and the always popular “When I was a boy… stories.
My father was not by any stretch of the imagination a wordsmith, but it did not matter because the most important things he impressed on us about the kind of men he wanted us to be, he imparted by example. You might sum up those efforts with something like this:
The Stature of a Man:
Is not measured in his height.
Cannot be seen in a mirror.
Is but a reflection of the friends he has made and the respect he has earned.
Is measured in the love he gives and the love he receives in return.
May be seen in the reflection of his children’s eyes when they tell him they
want to grow up to be just like him.
The true stature of this man is now only visible in the reflections that were his life. I think back on the many moments I witnessed as a child that made me proud to be his son. His work ethic, honesty, quiet demeanor, and strength of character shall forever be a part of me.
So, as his son when I talk to my children I will say, when I was a boy… I had the privilege of knowing a man, a very big man, and that man was my father!
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Gerald R Gioglio
07/03/2021Wonderful Steven. Brought me back to the morning I got that sad call...and the memories that came flooding in. Thanks, GRG
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Steven W Kimball
07/04/2021Thank you. While sometimes those memories make us feel sad, they also give us solace just knowing we can still remember those who meant so much to us.
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