Parillo, Peter, GMC

made his way home that day. He didn’t let it keep him from serving his country. Dad reenlisted again, and again, and again. He did twenty years of active duty, and he may have complained by saying “I’ve got the job, where’s the adventure?” But we all knew his service was more than just a job to him. Being a sailor was part of who Dad was.

My Dad and I never did have a conventional father-daughter relationship. Due to circumstances, I saw him rarely in person. Our phone conversations were never regular, especially when he was still on active duty. We could go a week without talking or even a couple of months—the length of time never seemed to matter to us. He never stressed about it and neither did I—things between us were always easy like that.

Still, I learned some very important things from my Dad that have stayed with me through my life and in my own way, I’ve taught them to my children. At times, I can hear his voice in my head and l’d like to share some of those words with you today.
When I was a kid, Dad would call and I’d often complain to him about different things like kids do. He didn’t bash the people of the circumstances. He’d say, “You got to let it roll off your back, Dawn. Like water off a duck.” Dad taught me that I couldn’t control the actions of others, but I could control my own.

Like other kids, I broke things. I also wrapped quite a few rigs around the overhead power lines when we fished the outlet because I couldn’t seem to remember to cast sideways. Dad would chuckle every time he had to cut my line and tie on a new rig. When I’d apologize for wasting his money, Dad would shake his head. “They’re just things, Dawn.” Dad taught me people were more important than what money could buy.

During trying times in my life, Dad would call more often. He’d tell me, “You’re a Parillo, Dawn—we’re tough.” With these few words, my dad reminded me that, no matter how far apart we were, no matter how much or how little we talked, and even though my last name changed when I married, I would always be his daughter, and that who I am is something to be proud of.

My very favorite saying goes back to when I was a kid. When I’d act up Dad would look at me with that Daddy stare and say in a calm voice. “Dawn, how many spankin’s you got so far?” I’d look back and try to look sweet and say, “None, Dad.” He’d simply nod. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.” Those few words straightened me up like nothing else—I still don’t understand why, but it did.

Most importantly Dad taught me by what he didn’t say. He didn’t complain about other people in my life that he didn’t get along with, at least not to me. He knew that kids needed love and not to know about problems between the people that are important to them.

Dad’s love was steady, no matter what came at him. His love for Gwen and me—for his family--continued through everything life threw his way, which was a lot. Dad loved his brothers and sisters and told me lots of stories about their younger days. I’ve often wondered about the stories he wouldn’t tell—I’m sure there are plenty he deemed unfit for my ears. I’d like to think he and his brother and sisters are having some laughs over those stories now.

All my life, I can’t recall a single time that I deliberate disobeyed him—until last month. When I called and offered to fly out, he told me not to come. The stubbornness I definitely inherited from him reared up, and while I didn’t dare say it out loud—inside I thought, “You should know me better than that.” So Gwen and I made our plans and crossed our fingers. Luckily, Dad was glad to see me.

Over his last two weeks, there weren’t many moments of clear conversation before he was taken, but I’m thankful for what we had.

Since I’ve been back here, people have told me I’m a lot like him. I’ll take that as a compliment. I’m a bit on the rough side, I’ve been known to speak my mind a bit too quickly, and I like to keep to myself a lot, but I am also strong, I value what’s really important in life, and treasure my family, because I had a Dad who taught me his important lessons in just a few words.

Thank you, Dad. I’ll never forget your words, and promise to keep teaching your lessons to my children. -Dawn (Parillo) Cole