My Dad

[Editor's note: Our sympathy to Scott Shanahan, who lost his father on May 15, 2023. He preaches the gospel in Italy and sent a brief report of this sad occasion to those who support him, thus explaining the unscheduled trip he had to make to the states. He added to the details of the report a tribute to his father, which is truly inspirational. I have forwarded it to other recovering alcoholics.]

I am not sure where to begin, as there is so much I could say. My dad, Edward Kevin Shanahan, always went by his middle name. It seems almost all of our male relatives are named Edward, and they all had nicknames like: Eddie, Ed, big Eddie, little Eddie, and little big Eddie. My grandmother did not want my dad to have one of those nicknames; so, she just called him Kevin. He was born in Malden, Massachusetts on May 11th, 1948. He died just four days after his 75th birthday.

Everyone who knew my dad knew one thing about him; He was a recovering alcoholic, and he was active in AA. I will never forget the day my dad quit drinking, which he had started when he was a young teenager. It was July 21st, 1989. I had just gotten home from my job bagging groceries at a local grocery store. My dad was sitting in the kitchen with a glass of scotch. That was not abnormal. What was abnormal was that he called the entire family into the kitchen and said, "I'm an alcoholic, and this is my last drink." He finished the drink and poured the rest of the bottle down the kitchen sink. He never drank again. He went through withdrawals at home. It was hard to watch, but my dad was tough, and he made it through. Sobriety was not easy for him, but it got easier as time went on.

After he and my mother divorced, and my sisters and I were out on our own, my dad was by himself, but he was anything but lonely. He became active in AA. It was recently described to me how active he was. One of his friends said, "Everyone in AA is active, we are a service-based community. But then there are those who are really active; then there is Kevin." I remember once my uncle came to see my dad, and he said, "I felt bad for him because he lives in a small apartment all by himself. We went out to lunch and every single person who came into the restaurant greeted him, and he talked to them for several minutes each. By the end of it, I felt bad for myself."

I knew my dad had helped some people with their sobriety. If you asked me to guess, I would have said, "I don't know, ten or twenty, at least." I would have been off—way off. This weekend dozens of people have visited him and said to me. "Your dad saved my life." I lost count of how many people said that, but it was way more than 20. It seems every person who has found sobriety on Cape Cod in the last 30 years was in some way influenced by my dad.

My dad had a series of strokes not long after Rebecca and I married in 2003. We started talking about the condition of his soul at that time. In 2005, I baptized him into Christ for the remission of his sins. He did not live in the Bible belt, though there is a good, active congregation not far from his house. Unfortunately, he was never very active with the congregation.

My family arrived in Massachusetts on Friday. Dad had been visited by dozens of people that day, and by the time we arrived he was exhausted. I greeted him and he smiled at me, but he was soon asleep. I saw him Saturday morning when he was alert. We spoke again about his soul, and he said he knew he needed to be forgiven. We prayed for that forgiveness. He rested most of the day Saturday, but there were people in and out all day. The number of people who came to say goodbye to him was astounding. He was totally surrounded by love.

In the late afternoon I found myself alone with him. This was our last conversation: "I want you to know something: you were a good dad, and I am proud to be your son." We held each other and he looked at me, smiled, and said, "That makes me very happy." We just sat together alone for a while before the crowds started coming in again.

He had to have pain medication administered every two hours. Sunday night I spent the night at his house in order to give my sister a break. I should write an entire volume just about the work she did in caring for him. He fell asleep around 6:00 that evening. I gave him his medicine at 10:00, then at midnight, then at 2:00. When I went in at 4:00, his body was there, but he was gone.

My dad was small in stature, but he was a giant of a man in his community. To be half his size in my community would be a great accomplishment.

I could say so much more, but my heart is broken and the words are having trouble coming out. Thank you for your prayers and words of encouragement. They have not gone unnoticed.

[Additional editor's note: The title of what Scott wrote, of course, is appropriate and makes sense. But I could not help but be reminded of the popular song of the same title, which many may not be familiar with. It was recorded by Paul Petersen, who played the son on "The Donna Reed Show." (The father was Carl Betz, and the daughter was Shelly Faberes, whose "Johnny Angel" is still played on Oldies stations; it hit #1 in 1962.)

Petersen's "My Dad" was popular in early 1962, making it to the Top Ten. He sang the song on one of the episodes. It sets forth the idea at the beginning and the end of the song a very simple line that Scott would surely agree with: "My dad, now here is a man."]