I knew sooner or later the day would come, but I did not want to admit it. With my mother now gone some 26 years, my father had become the center of our lives, except, of course, for the Good Lord. Serge Mihaly was a giant of a man, a lion some have said. He was the unmovable pillar that many tied their Carpatho-Russian Orthodox and cultural reigns to. My father was a man of quiet, humble dignity found in an honest, no nonsense view of life. Born out of personal tragedy with the loss of the two women he had loved, his focus was his family, his friends and his faith. My brother Luke, pretty much summed this up very well in his eulogy for our father.
My father’s wealth, though, was not in any earthly item, no fancy cars or investments or some other shining bobble. No, his ‘wealth, was in what could not be given a price. It was in his warmth and generosity, in his unique appreciation in the value of the ‘human condition’ he so often reflected on and sympathized with and his faith. For this man who so loved nature, there was a truly beautiful side to him. He loved the woods, the camaraderie of the hunt, the laughs and jokes that reverberated throughout the camp, the atmosphere, the good times and the continual creation of good memories. These and so many others things my father was concerned about and wanted so very much to continue.
I remember soon after his parents had died in the 1970’s he repeated something Minnesota Senator and Democratic Presidential candidate Hubert Humphrey who was dying of cancer once said. ‘Life is to be lived, not endured.’ There was something in those words that struck my father, something that reverberated within him that seemed to release some pent up pain and frustration. I remember soon after, he began to feel better as if whatever had plagued him, plagued him no more.
My father was a remarkable man. Good and strong, loving and gentle, but at the same time could be as tough as anyone standing on his principles until hell froze over and for my father, this was something hell wouldn’t dare.
It is late now and I am tired. I miss my father as I do my mother and so many others that have passed on. My father more so though, as his passing was such a short time ago. We owe it to him and to ourselves to be happy despite the pain and emptiness that still resides in us for he would not want it any other way.
God bless you Dad.
