Over the years, I never thought of my father as being very emotional, and he never was, at least not in front of me. Even though he was 68 years old and only five-foot-nine, while I was six feet and 260 pounds, he seemed huge to me. I always saw him as being that staunch disciplinarian who rarely cracked a smile. My father never told me he loved me when I was a child, and I never held it against him. I think that all I really wanted was for my dad to be proud of me. In my youth, Mom always showered me with “I love you’s” every day. So I really never thought about not hearing it from my dad. I guess deep down I knew that he loved me, he just never said it. Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever told him that I loved him, either. I never really thought about it much until I faced the reality of death.
On November 9th, 1990, I received word that my National Guard unit was being activated for Operation Desert Shield. We would convoy to Fort Ben Harrison, Indiana, and then directly to Saudi Arabia. I had been in the Guard for 10 years and never dreamed that we would be activated for a war, even though I knew it was what we trained for. I went to my father and gave him the news. I could sense he was uneasy about me going. We never discussed it much more, and eight days later I was gone.
I have several close relatives who have been in the military during war time. My father and uncle were in World War II, and two brothers and a sister served in Vietnam. While I was extremely uneasy about leaving my family to serve my country in a war zone, I knew it was what I had to do. I prayed that this would make my father proud of me. My father is very involved in the Veterans of Foreign Wars organization and has always been for a strong military. I was not eligible to join the Veterans of Foreign Wars because I had not been in a war zone—a fact that always made me feel like I didn’t measure up in my father’s eyes. But now here I was, his youngest son, being shipped off to a foreign land 9,000 miles away, to fight a war in a country we had barely heard of before.
On November 17, 1990, our convoy of military vehicles rolled out of rural Greenville, Michigan. The streets were filled with families and well-wishers to see us off. As we approached the edge of town, I looked out the window of my truck and saw my wife, Kim, my children, and Mom and Dad. They were all waving and crying, except for my father. He just stood there, almost like a stone statue. He looked incredibly old at that moment. I don’t know why, he just did.
I was gone for that Thanksgiving and missed our family’s dinner. There was always a crowd, with two of my sisters, their husbands and children, plus my wife and our family. It disturbed me greatly that I couldn’t be there. A few days after Thanksgiving I was able to call my wife, and she told me something that has made me look at my father in a different way ever since.
My wife knew how my father was about his emotions, and I could hear her voice quaver as she spoke to me. She told me that my father recited his usual Thanksgiving prayer. But this time he added one last sentence. As his voice started to crack and a tear ran down his cheek, he said, “Dear Lord, please watch over and guide my son, Rick, with your hand in his time of need as he serves his country, and bring him home to us safely.” At that point he burst into tears. I had never seen my father cry, and when I heard this, I couldn’t help but start to cry myself. My wife asked me what was wrong. After regaining my composure, I said, “I guess my father really does love me.”
Eight months later, when I returned home from the war, I ran over and hugged my wife and children in a flurry of tears. When I came to my father, I embraced him and gave him a huge hug. He whispered in my ear, “I’m very proud of you, Son, and I love you.” I looked that man, my dad, straight in the eyes as I held his head between my hands and I said, “I love you too, Dad,” and we embraced again. And then together, both of us cried.
Ever since that day, my relationship with my father has never been the same. We have had many deep conversations. I learned that he’s always been proud of me, and he’s not afraid to say “I love you” anymore. Neither am I. I’m just sorry it took 29 years and a war to find it out.

多年來，我從來沒有想過我的父親作為是非常感性，他從來沒有，至少在我的面前。盡管他是68歲，只有五英尺九，而我是六英尺，260磅，他似乎巨大的我。我總是看到他為是堅定的紀律誰很少綻出笑容。我的父親從來沒有告訴過我他愛我，當我還是個孩子，我從未因此而反對他。我認為所有我真正想要的是我爸為我驕傲。在我的青春，媽媽總是洗完澡我“我愛你的”每一天。所以，我真的從來沒有想過沒有從我爸聽。我想在內(nèi)心深處，我知道他愛我，他只是從來沒有說過。試想想起來了，我不認為我曾經(jīng)告訴他，我愛他，無論是。我從來沒有想過這個問題多，直到我面對死亡的現(xiàn)實。
在1990年11月9日，我收到消息說我的國民警衛(wèi)隊正在激活操作沙漠盾。我們會為車隊奔堡哈里森，印第安納州，然后直接到沙特阿拉伯。我曾在國民警衛(wèi)隊10年，從來沒有想過我們會一戰(zhàn)被激活，盡管我知道這是什么，我們訓練了。我去了我的父親，給了他這個消息。我能感覺到他很不安我去。我們從來沒有討論過得多了，8天之后，我走了。
我有幾個近親戰(zhàn)時誰一直在軍事。我的父親和叔叔都在二戰(zhàn)中，和兩個哥哥和一個姐姐在越南服役。當我正要離開我的家人為我的國家在戰(zhàn)爭地區(qū)非常不安，我知道這是我必須做的。我祈禱，這將使我父親為我感到驕傲。我的父親是非常參與對外戰(zhàn)爭組織的退伍軍人，并一直是一個強大的軍隊。我沒有資格參加海外戰(zhàn)爭退伍軍人，因為我一直沒在戰(zhàn)區(qū)，事實總是讓我覺得我并沒有在我父親的眼睛達到。但現(xiàn)在在這里，我，他的小兒子，被運到異鄉(xiāng)9000英里遠，在我們幾乎沒有聽說過的國家打一場戰(zhàn)爭。
1990年11月17日，我們的軍車車隊推出了格林維爾農(nóng)村，密歇根州。街上到處都是和家人和好心人為我們送行。當我們走近小鎮(zhèn)的邊上，我看著我的車的窗戶看到我的妻子，金，我的孩子，爸爸媽媽。他們都揮舞著哭，除了我的父親。他只是站在那里，幾乎像一個石像。他在那一刻顯得令人難以置信了。我不知道為什么，他只是做了。
我走了感恩節(jié)，錯過了我們家的晚餐。總有一群人，有兩個我的姐妹們，她們的丈夫和孩子，再加上我的妻子和我們的家庭。它擾亂了我很大的，我不能在那里。感恩節(jié)過后的幾天我可以打電話給我的妻子，她告訴我的東西，已經(jīng)讓我看看我的父親以不同的方式至今。
我的妻子知道我父親是如何對自己的情緒，我能聽到她的聲音顫抖，她對我說話。她告訴我，我的父親背誦了他一貫的感恩禱告。但是這一次他補充說最后一句話。隨著他的聲音開始開裂了眼淚順著他的臉頰，他說：“親愛的上帝，請看護和引導我的兒子，里克，用你的手在他需要的時候，因為他提供他的國家，并帶他回家美國安全�！霸谶@一點上，他淚流滿面。我從來沒有見過我的父親哭了，當我聽到這句話，我忍不住開始哭泣我自己。我的妻子問我，什么是錯的�；謴土随�(zhèn)靜之后，我說，“我想我的父親真的愛我。”
八個月后，當我從戰(zhàn)場回到家里，我跑過去，抱住我的妻子和孩子的眼淚亂舞。當我來到我的父親，我擁抱了他，并給了他一個巨大的擁抱。他低聲在我耳邊，“我很為你感到驕傲，兒子，我愛你�！蔽铱粗�那個男人，我的爸爸，直在眼睛，我我用雙手握著他的頭和我說，“我愛你，爸爸“，而我們再次擁抱。再在一起，我們倆都哭了。
從那天以后，我和我父親的關(guān)系從來都不是一樣的。我們有過許多深刻的對話。我才知道，他一直是我引以為傲，他不害怕說“我愛你”了。也不是。我真的很遺憾它花了29年一戰(zhàn)找到它。