The Storm

It was the summer of 1994. I was in my mid 20’s and up until this point I was cruising through life without much of a care in the world. No worries, lots of friends, a decent job and I even had my own apartment.

Looking back on my childhood, my parents were always loving and supportive of me throughout my life. I was the last of three children. A “surprise” as my parents would always put it. My sisters were 9 and 11 years older than me so I often felt like an only child, especially in my preteen and teenage years.

My parents were not nearly as strict with me as they were with my sisters and I probably got away with more than I should have. I had a blessed relationship with both of my parents, especially my dad who was always proud of my accomplishments. I was given much by my parents, some would even say spoiled. I was leading a carefree life and never had to endure a difficult moment, let alone a storm.

My storm began in 1991 when my father was diagnosed with throat cancer. Although no one wants a loved one to be diagnosed with any type of cancer, the prognosis was favorable, meaning, there were treatments available.

I remember thinking “dad will be fine. He’ll beat this with no problem”. Dad did all the things you would expect. He quit smoking and he received all of the necessary treatments to have the best shot at beating the cancer. As time passed however, our family endured setback after setback with dad’s illness. He eventually had to have his voice box removed, and he had to speak with a handheld device. This was very difficult for him to accept because he always had a commanding voice.

Although his voice was gone and he seemed to be growing weaker as the months went by, his spirit seemed full of resolve and I thought he was always committed to beating this illness.

Then one day around Christmas in 1993 when I was visiting, he sat me down at the kitchen table and said “I need to tell you a few things… I’m not going to be here forever and I’m going to need you to be strong for your mom and your sisters. When I’m gone, you will become the man and the head of this family. Even though your sisters are married, they will still need your love and support. I also expect you to marry some day and carry on my name in an honorable way. You’re 25 now and you need to start thinking and acting like the man that I raised you to be.”

This was a gut punch in a few ways. I knew he was telling me this because he was losing hope, and he told me I was falling short of his expectations. I immediately took steps to make things right and spent more time with my parents, visiting almost every day and making sure I was there to help with anything they needed. I was still in denial though, thinking that by upping my game, my dad would turn the corner and get better. As 1994 progressed though, the cancer became more and more difficult for the doctors to control. I soon began to realize that Dad was out of options and I found myself getting closer and closer to the eye of the storm.

It was June 30, 1994 when I received a phone call from my sister at around 2:30am. My Dad had passed away. Although I was very upset, everything was calm. I was now in the eye of the storm and I knew everything in my life from this point forward would be different, and for a time, more difficult.

As I was driving to my parent’s house to be with my mom and sisters, I recalled what my Dad said to me that night at the kitchen table. I realized at that moment that I had become a man with real burdens and real responsibilities.

As I look back, the storm was harsh and sometimes very difficult to navigate but in many ways it has helped me to always strive to be what my Dad raised me to be; a man of God, a loving husband, a good father, a good son and brother, and a man committed to carrying on my father’s name in an honorable way.

~Joe Allkind, 2022