70

Today would have been my Dad’s 70th birthday. I might be bias, but to me Michael Dougherty did so much with his life.

He was a college sports Hall of Fame-er. He worked in construction before becoming a Fort Lauderdale hotshot bartender. He was a spear fisherman. He was a master cleanser. He was restaurateur. He ran a nightclub. He was a country club president. He was MacGyver. He was Mitch Buchanan. He was a boss. He was a friend. He was an advocate for the special needs community. He was a kind and patient man, no bad bone is his body. And he not only wanted the best for everyone but also wanted everyone to have fun.

But first and foremost – he was a Dad who really did everything for his children and wife.

My Dad had three very different children and he treated us each as individuals and took care of us in a different way.

For Morgan, he was able to teach his son how to be a gentleman. My Dad was the epitome of a gentleman. He could have written the guide. He had a signature move – standing up when a woman excuses herself at the table. To be honest, it was kind of exhausting to watch. But that was Michael Dougherty. No hats inside, always opening the door, never eating before a woman at each meal. The list goes on. He taught many of these traits to my late brother and he was the perfect example of how to be a gracious loser or occasional winner on the golf course. My brother's life was far too short but I know there time together was precious. I'm relieved they are together again even though I'm sure my brother is upset that his biggest competition is back.

For Mikie, my Dad was a companion. I’m not exactly sure how many people know the extent of what my father did for my brother. Because that was my Dad. He was private about certain areas of his life where he didn't want or need credit. He was Mikie’s everything. They spent each morning together getting ready for the day. My Dad was Mikie’s caretaker, stylist, short order cook, foot masseuse, cabana boy at the beach and also the guy he wouldn’t leave the room without. Growing up, my Dad had the tough task of sometimes walking Mikie out of churches, restaurants and other people’s homes if he happened to misbehave. He was proud of my brother and never showed an ounce of insecurity when he had to make bold moves on my brother’s behalf. He never complained and he would do anything to keep my brother’s dignity intact. My Dad may have spoiled Mikie – and we are paying for it now – but it was because he wanted Mikie to be able to live the most comfortable life possible. I can tell my brother misses my father but I know their bond was strong enough that it lives on forever. As we always said, Mikie is our angel closest to God so I know my father can't be too much further away.

And for me, it’s quite hard to put into words. To me, my Dad was the best there ever was. He was my role model, my friend, my mentor, my therapist, my coach, my handyman, my cheerleader, my “sponsor,” my emergency contact and my main man.

I actually don’t think I need to explain how much he loved me because I really think everyone knew when they saw us together. My Dad never had a hard time expressing his feelings toward me. I am lucky to say that I know how proud my Dad was of me - he wasn’t shy about pumping my ego. And he wanted to be a part of every aspect of my life. He was my advisor and my first call – whether it be a job promotion, car accident (there were a few), apartment repairs, mice, big purchases or filing my taxes (which to be honest, he was by no means an accountant). 

From a young age, there was a closeness that my mom, dad and I shared. We hit the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. We confided in each other when it maybe wasn’t totally kosher for parents and children and we also made the best out of every scenario. We were a team.

When my dad was first diagnosed with lung cancer, a little over three years ago, I moved home because I wanted to give back to my dad and I was terrified to miss out on time with him. Let’s be real – he didn’t need me then. He was driving himself to treatments and playing golf every day. I thought he was invincible. We had the best summer that year. My mom, dad and I called ourselves the “BFFs.” We spent many weekdays and every weekend together at the shore and every Friday my dad and I went fishing, though we never caught a fish.

Two years ago, when we thought my dad was in the clear, I felt it was time to continue my life again. So when the opportunity came for me to move back to New York, my dad jumped on it. He was so excited for me to be back to the city I loved and all he wanted was for me to find love myself. And just as he did any other time I moved apartments, my dad moved me in. That was our thing. We would literally unpack every box and reconstruct every piece of furniture by the following morning – usually with a night out of dinner and too many drinks. I would be looking forward to my new beginning but at the same time, I really did not want to say goodbye to my dad. It was kind of like that feeling when you leave for college – a homesickness that takes over knowing it will never be the same again. I would get teary eyed and just tell him how much I loved him and how thankful I was for what he did for me.

And that’s how I felt in our final days together. I knew it was time for my dad to move on and be at peace. He made me who I am today and helped me build my life into what it is. But there’s a piece of my heart that will always be missing for him.

Dad, I wish you were here to celebrate 70 years. And I wish I could have 70 more with you. But I also know I am the luckiest that you were my dad. I will miss you forever and these words don’t even begin to express how much you mean to me. I love you, Dad. Happy birthday.