Thank you, Deb.
The last time I saw my father ... I was fifteen years old. He didn't recognize me because he came back from WWll with amnesia and PTSS. I was at my grandparents home (his mother and father) when he walked down the stairway and said ... "Oh, my, what a pretty young girl you are. What is your name?" He asked if he could take a picture of me. It was so bittersweet. That, again, and due to circumstances beyond my control, was the last time I ever saw him.
Years later, I could not locate where he was. It seemed to be a big family secret. Before Christmas of the year 2000, I received a phone call from the Coroner's Office ... asking me if I was his only surviving child. I was. I learned at that time that I had been left a substancial inheritance. My life, in so many ways, changed after that day.
I also learned, that all this time my father had been homeless, an Angel of a psychologist came into my father's life, and helped to bring my father off the streets, or, from under a bridge ... where my father still preferred later on, to make his home, once again.
His psychologist is now my dear friend, who not only was my father's doctor, but, a friend to my father, too. A long and amazing story about all of this.
My father's story changed my life so much. I still choose to live the way we do now. We have the pretty and comfortable home we bought before my father died. We are blessed with so much. But, my dream had always been for my granddaughter to have the opportunity to receive a college education, without the pressure of having to pay back student loans later on. So, her education ia already paid for ... she starts college the fall of 2011. She plans on becoming a physical therapist, with a doctorate degree, which is required in most states now.
I also donated a park in the Pocono's ... from the land that was my father's. It's a beautiful piece of land ... lovely trees, flowers, a sparkling creek down the hill, and a few picnic tables with grills. It's called Red's Park. That was the name he chose for himself. The park also has a beautiful stone memorial ... honoring his military service, and as a veteran of WWll. I stipulated that the park was NEVER to be used as a site for any kind of building ... it is forever to be the beautiful and serene park that is is today. If my request is not honored, I have it in writing by my lawyers, that I take back the land.
My father hated waste and wars. That was also written on the gravestone and momument stone. I also had engraved on his stone (black granite stone with genuine gold flecks from Africa) his favorite red bike ... and, his beloved cat. I don't think my father could have handled the tragedies of 9/11.
I have so many wonderful stories as to what transpired after my father died. I am sorry that he never got to know me, as his daughter. And, visa versa.
My father was a very bright man. And, he was very artistic. All the money that was sitting in the bank for years, from his military pension, didn't mean anything to him. He could have lived very well. But, he chose to live his life in a way that most of us would never think of doing if we didn't have to. And, yet, for himself, he was happy and content.
My story was on the local TV stations and in the local newspapers in the Pocono's. I was so touched later ... with calls and letters ... thanking me for helping others try to think about, understand, and not look down on those who are homeless. We never know what causes a person to take that journey in his/her life.
So, with that ... I honor my Father today. My father's name was Felix Joseph. The guy who used to live next door to me, and later married me ... going on twenty-nine years now ... also has the name of Felix Joseph. I think about that a lot ...
