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HomeMy WebLinkAboutHuron Expositor, 2015-08-19, Page 44 Huron Expositor • Wednesday, August 19, 2015 iar Nuron Expositor PUBLISHED WEEKLY — EST. 1860 P.O. Box 69, 8 Main Street Seaforth Ontario NOK 1 WO phone: 519-527-0240 fax: 519-527-2858 www.seaforthhuronexpositor �p] POSTMEDIA NEIL CLIFFORD Advertising Director neil.clifford@sunmedia.ca SHAUN GREGORY Multimedia Journalist shaun.gregory@sunmedia.ca DIANNE MCGRATH Front Office seaforth.classifieds@sunmedia.ca NANCY DEGANS Advertising Rep. nancy.degans@sunmedia.ca MARIE DAVID Group Advertising Director Grey Bruce Huron Division 519 376-2250 ext. 514301 or 510 364-2001 ext. 531024 SUBSCRIPTION RATES 1 YEAR $50.00 (47.62+2.38 6ST) 2 YEAR $95.00 (90.48+4.52 GST) SENIORS 60 WEEKS $50.00 (47.62+2.38 GST) 120 WEEKS $95.00 (90.48+4.52 GST) Publications Mail Agreement No. 40064683 RETURN UNDELIVERABLE CANADIAN ADDRESSES TO CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT P.O. Box 69 Seaforth ON NOK 1 WO For any non -deliveries or delivery concerns: phone: 519-527-0240 Advertising is accepted on condition that in the event of a typographical error, the advertising space occupied by the erroneous item, together with a reasonable allowance for signature, will not be charged, but the balance of the advertisement wit be paid for at the applicable rate. In the event of a typographical error, advertising goods or services at a wrong price, goods or services may not be sold. Advertising is merely an offer to set and may be withdrawn at any time. The Huron Expositor is not responsible for the loss or damage of unsolicited manuscripts, photos or other materials used for reproduction purposes. We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canadian Periodical Fund (CPF) for our publishing activities. Canaa'a www.seaforthhuronexpositor.com Anybody can be a dad, it takes a man to be a father en I was young, my father didn't come around the house much. He was heavily into the party scene. My mom was also a partier, but she made up for it by raising me. It's weird, but I never hated him for it back then. Maybe my age played a factor in the judgement of the man I called Dad. I did not know for 20 years he had not once paid a cent in child's support. Being a little boy, my atten- tion span was equivalent to that of a puppy, so I never had a sense of reality or time to tell me that I have not saw him in more than six months. He would call and talk to me whenever he was hungover or half in the bag and I just loved it. To me he was like Wayne Gretzky with a bottle of beer instead of a hockey stick. I literally worshipped the ground he walked on. After I was born, him and my mom pretty much parted ways for the better. He was about 17 years older than my mother and from all the addictions you'd think it would show in his face. It didn't, the guy looked great for his age. I don't how, but he was physically fit and he had all his hair on his head. When he talked, he had this deep voice that reminded me of Sylvester Stallone. The thing I can remember most is the smell of cigarettes and beer on his breath. For some strange reason, I adored that scent. When I think about it now, I think, 'yuck, that's dis- gusting.' Honestly though, I looked up to him so much that none of that was of importance. I just wanted to converse with the guy, hear him speak and be around him. On my birthdays, he would show up late and sometimes not show up at all. But when he did choose to make an appearance with a gift, the way he'd stroll in, it was like a swagger that I cannot describe. The blue Levi's, a pack of smokes hanging out the back pocket and his Column Shaun Gregory Harley Davidson T-shirt with his hair slicked back with a goatee. Being born in 1948, he had the presence of a Greaser. None of those good looks were significant to my mother, she couldn't believe that crap piled that high. It offended her that I idolized this absent man. As I got older, he came around less and less each year, until finally he stopped coming around period. It had been two years since I talked to him. I remember like it was yesterday in 2004 when my mom called and said "Shaun are you sitting down." "Yes," I replied. "Your dad died last night of cirrhosis of the liver." It hit me like a ton of bricks. I dropped to my knees and I went in a depression for some time after. Like why did I care about this man that would rather hold a bottle than his own son? Why is this affecting me? I did not have the answer. All I knew is I felt dead inside. Time went by slow for a bit after the funeral. His death experience took a toll on me, but I had enough of the depression bringing me down. I bounced back and graduated and received my Ontario Secondary School Diploma, one of the first to ever do it in my family, which at the time it was kind of a big deal for me. I moved to Banff, Alta., a couple years later and experienced life like most young men that age. I drank beers with friends, snow - boarded in the mountains and life was great. Then things got even better when I met Sarah. Her also coming from Ontario, she came up to Banff to work for a families pizza shop. I swear I fell in love with her when I first met her. After dating for a bit, we decided Alberta was too far from family so we made the decision to move back to Ontario. Time passed and I was still doing the same old thing, dead-end jobs and living paycheque to paycheque. I was 26 years old and I wanted to do something with my life, I wanted to be some- body. That year, we were blessed with our beautiful baby girl Gavriella. She was born a year and a half after my mom passed away. I swear my mother had some- thing to do with that baby. She was the prefect baby. I laugh, now, she's a terrorizer, but she's my world, my little blond haired angel. I made the choice to sign up for college that year and selected journalism. My first year in the program was hec- tic. I had no idea what I was doing, but I made it through my first year and won the Most Dedicated Journalist of the Year, which I felt was a pity award, but hey it's an award right? The next year I sharpened my skills and made an impression in the world of media, I won Radio Producer of the Year and was runner-up for Print Writer of the Year and Journalist of the Year. I knew I deserved sec- ond place. There was an optional third year program available for students who graduated the Journalism program. I didn't hesitate and I signed up that day. It was my time to shine, as I won every award that the Media Convergence Program gave out and had the honour of being nominated for the Student Journalist of the Year at the Ontario Newspaper Awards. Things were looking great. During that third year of college we had our second child Grayson, it gives me goosebumps saying his name. He too was perfect when he was born. He may have been the perfect baby, but there was always some- thing a little off with physical features of his body, it looked as if his right arm and leg were significantly larger. We mentioned it the doctor and he told us yes that is odd, so we got him looked at and they diagnosed him with hemihypertrophy, a rare dis- order in which one side of the body grows more than other. We were crushed, as this dis- order comes with a risk of tumors and numerous other types of cancer. Every 90 days, we get him screened and last week he finally saw a specialist and he told us his symptoms are very weak and we do not have to worry. Me, I don't think of all that. I always think the worst. Now with this new job I have at the Expositor, I only see my babies every two weeks, which breaks my heart. I just want to be with them, like who knows what could happen in those two weeks. When they come to visit, I cry when they first come and cry harder when they leave. I think back to my father, 'how could you leave your son?' I'm losing my mind after not seeing my babies after 12 days. How in the hell can you go for years ata time? All I know is those little bundles of joy are everything to me. They're what keep my heart ticking and I would walk through the gates of hell holding hands with them if needed. I would do anything for my children, no matter what the cost. I guess I just want to say thanks to my mother. You had it rough woman, but you raised me off nothing and look at me now I'm a journalist for one the best papers in Huron County. I may have been angry with my father, but I forgive him. I would not be where I'm at to this day with out it, so don't ever regret your past embrace it. To all the mothers and fathers raising your children with love, you are my heroes.