This Sunday is Father’s Day! It’s time to celebrate all those guys that fit the bill of being a dad. It’s a big job. 

I never met my father’s dad, Michael. He died in 1959 and I was born in 1968. Growing up I always thought that my Grandma Roma’s second husband was my biological grandpa because we called him Grandpa Frank. We only saw my dad’s family one or two times a year for an afternoon visit. They lived in Detroit, Michigan, and we in Ohio. 

I was young. My mom and dad never told me his dad died nor did I feel the need to ask questions. I just always assumed Frank was my grandpa. 

When I was old enough to learn about my Grandpa Michael I felt cheated. As an adult, I’m heartbroken that he wasn’t in my life. He never held me as a baby. I never heard his voice. I never even saw him. 

If you read my post about my Grandma Roma, you recall they met while he was fighting in WW1 in Poland. They married and traveled back to the United States on the ship, USS New Rochelle ship. It was on the open water that my Grandpa Michael became a father for the first time. Their first child, my Uncle George, was born on the Atlantic Ocean.

I can’t imagine the emotions my Grandpa felt during that journey. He left the state of New York as a single man to serve in the Polish Army and came home with a family. He was 25 years old and had the responsibility of his new bride and a baby. Just like others in his generation, he worked hard to make ends meet and raise a family. He was a barber by trade.

I love the connection I feel when I reflect on my ancestry but the loss is heavy. Gone are my Grandpa Michael, Grandma Roma, and all their kids, Uncle George, Norman (we called him Uncle Duke), Aunt Irene, and the baby of the family, my dad Ronald. 

That generation lived a simple life. No computers or cell phones. Neighbors socialized on their front porches and wrote handwritten letters. Every period of time certainly has different personal and social issues. I often wonder about the life my Grandpa Michael led, the obstacles he overcame, and the triumphs he celebrated. This Sunday he would be celebrating his 102nd Father’s Day. To my grandpa, I never got to have a conversation with, know that I often think about you.

Happy Father’s Day to the best: Papa (my father-in-law), my husband Jack, all my brothers-in-law, and my nephews who are dads. A special shout out to my nephews Mike and Chris, who happen to be brothers, celebrating their first official Father’s Day! Andrew and Evelyn are so lucky to call you guys “dad”.