Reflections: No One Is Like My Dad
My mom had mini heart attacks when Dad would hold me upside down and throw me in the air as a baby.
I used to play dress up in his work clothes when he came home late from work.
When I started gymnastics classes, all 6 feet and 2 inches of him taught me how to do a handstand in the middle of the living room. I thought he was larger than life.
When I kept winning of all the certificates and awards at high school awards ceremony, he made me stand at the side of the stage and stood with me because, “They’re gonna keep calling you up, baby. And, I’m gonna be right there by you.”
He was patient when teaching me how to drive. We had a cul-de-sac next to our home, and he made me practice how to parallel park and used a trashcan and his favorite ladder as markers. He said, “You BETTER not knock them down either!” When I successfully passed all of his tests, he kissed my cheek and told me that I was brilliant.
When he started a lawn mowing business to make extra money for the family, I was there with him under the hot Georgia sun because who doesn’t want extra money? But also, that meant extra time with him. When I would make beautiful designs in the grass, Dad would again kiss my cheek and then hand me the coldest, most delicious Coca-Cola I’d ever tasted.
I loved sitting with him in the barbershop even if I was the only girl. Watching my uncle cut my dad’s hair felt so special.
He had a black Chevy Silverado that he adored, and I loved rolling the window all the way down and feeling the wind in my hair as we went on yet another trip to Home Depot. (Side note: I feel like a piece of his soul died when he had to get a van.)
The first time he showed me how to put oil in my hand-me-down car, he beamed with pride and said, “Look at that. Your hands are so steady. You’re going to be a surgeon.” He spoke life into me and saw something in me that I couldn’t see yet.
When I got my heart broken for the first time of many, he gave me some amazing advice. I don’t know what I thought he was going to say, but I was expecting something along the lines of “you’re too young to understand” or “wait until you’re older to worry about boys.” What he actually said was “Baby, these dudes run like buses. They are like bananas.” I was so confused and asked him what he meant. He said, “They are bananas. You can get more! Just peel those jokers off and get another one!!!!” (This is why I feel like Rihanna and Meg Thee Stallion to this day!)
When I graduated cum laude from college, he beamed with pride and walked around the expansive campus like he owned it. The same rang true with graduate school and medical school.
When I gave my chief grand rounds in residency, he was right there (with the rest of my family) and recorded it on his tablet because: “This is gonna be a talk for the ages.” I cried right before because I was scared of the topic (hello, disparities and surgical care, and because I was doing a huge presentation in front of my family and colleagues.) When I finished, he stood and clapped the hardest and yelled, “Peel ‘em off!”
Never mind the countless moves across the country. Even as his body aged, his mind never did. He picked me up and packed up the U-Haul with no complaints. From Atlanta to South Carolina to Washington, D.C., and back to Atlanta, then to Chicago, and lastly, the mighty Republic of Brooklyn.
When I finished my fellowship, he was front and center, and watching him cry made me cry. Then we celebrated and made countless boomerangs. When we got in the Uber on our way back to my apartment he said, “You showed their asses!”
At the open house for my office, my first big girl job, he socialized and served, as if it were his office opening.
I have strong opinions about everything and am very passionate about those opinions. Even when I know he thinks I’m wrong, he never chastises me or forces me to believe what he believes. He just says, “OK, sugar.”
He makes sure I eat. That’s love and so nurturing. If I haven’t eaten, I can count on him to say, “I made chicken (or ribs or neckbones), collard greens, and mac and cheese. And, I also made a pound cake. Come eat.”
I’m in awe of him. He has the largest hands I’ve ever seen. When I place my hand against his, I feel like Simba placing his paw in Mufasa’s paw print.
He has sage advice that only comes with time and experience.
His compassion, ability to emote, and thoughtfulness are inspiring.
He has a way with people that I admire and wish I had.
He doesn’t mind wearing his heart on his sleeve.
What he doesn’t have in possessions, he makes up for with grit and heart.
This is by no means an exhaustive list of all of the reasons my father means the world to me. These memories are so important because outside of showing me unconditional love, he was the first person to always be proud of me, even for seemingly small or childish reasons. With him, I learned I could do or be anything. My dad helped build my confidence, but also gave me the tools I need to go out and truly be a go-getter. No dream was too wild or distant for me to accomplish. Imagine a world where you have someone who lifts you up so the moon is that much more accessible? That is who my dad is.
I don’t know if there is a word beyond love to describe how I feel about my dad. If that word exists, that’s what I feel.
With love always and forever,
Dr. Ryland J. Gore
Breast Surgical Oncologist