Dad’s Sweater: A Father’s Day Memory

It didn’t matter that Dad lived in the subtropics of Florida, in his later years he often wore a sweater. Perhaps from the blood-thinning drugs he took or because he had almost zero body fat or from old age, he seemed to be equally cold working in the church’s office or on his afternoon walks around Gleason Park.

Not a man who liked ties, a sweater was a perfect Father’s Day gift, and over the years Dad accumulated many. Among them, he had a few favorites—a beige and brown Argyle sweater, two lighter-weight cardigans, one blue, one yellow, and a heavy woolen Irish Aran sweater—which he would alternate when dressing each morning.  

Dad’s second career doing computer processing for his church came after a long first career in the space industry. Putting in twenty-plus years, he was beloved by the people at the church, especially the women in his office. So much so, when he passed away in 2012, they had an unusual request—they wanted one of his sweaters. Though a little surprised, my siblings and I wanted to accommodate them, and after some deliberation, we selected the beige and brown Argyle.

In a few days, word got back to us that the church ladies weren’t happy with our choice. They had a particular sweater in mind—the heavy woolen one made in Ireland where Dad was born. He wore that sweater most often, and like the women he worked with, we would most remember him in it as if it were his trademark. However, knowing it’s never a good idea to get on the bad side of church ladies, we acquiesced.   

I think it’s safe to speak for my siblings and say we’re glad we did. Dad’s sweater has a special place of honor now, hanging on a coat stand in the church office, where we heard the church ladies often rub or touch it in passing, where they say “good morning, Sean” each day as if his spirit lives on in his sweater.