This one is for my Dad
Folks -
Four years ago today my Dad joined my Mom at the big cocktail party in the sky. I like to think of them jitterbugging up there; they loved to dance. During the summer weekends when we would be at the lake, sometimes I’d return early to find them dancing away, the furniture in the living room pushed aside, the rug rolled up, and some big band stuff on the record player; just the two of them having a date.
They did date nights before they became fashionable; they’d get a sitter for us and go out to dinner or go dancing. Sometimes Dad would bring Mom flowers on his way home from work, not for any particular reason, he’d say “I thought you would like these,” or “Let’s sniff the daffodils together.”
When I was cleaning out the house after he died, I found a note from him that Mom had kept. It was an old Far Side cartoon of two birds in bed and the caption read “Here we are, my little chickadee” and he had scribbled next to it, “I’m so lucky I got to marry my Valentine.” The date on it was not Valentine’s day, either.
Dad was the master of the small gesture; he could bring you a pebble and make you feel as if it were a diamond. We’d sit in Church together, and he would draw funny pictures on the back of the program to keep me entertained (so I wasn’t so wiggly), and afterwards we’d go for pancakes and I would get to choose the syrup. You remember the little stuff the most, I think.
There’s a lot in life that is guaranteed, and at some point losing your parents is one of them. It changes you when it happens, in ways profound and mundane. That imaginary safety net is gone: you cannot go home again, literally. Suddenly you are grownup, and there is no going back.
I look in the mirror and sometimes I see Dad’s blue eyes (his were much, much more blue than mine), or his shy, sly smile; it is startling when it happens. There are moments when I hear him speaking through me when I use one of his expressions, or tell one of his corny jokes. There are a thousand cues throughout the day when I realize I am a product of his making, and those moments both fill me with joy and a bit of sadness.
So if you are lucky enough to still have your parents, give them a call today. Just out of the blue. Give them a pebble and make them think it is a diamond. You’ll both be glad that you called.
What a wonderful post. I love this recollection of your parents. My dad is still around, but I lost my mom 17 yrs ago and one of my greatest accomplishments in life was to give her (i.e. let her plan on my behalf) the wedding she always wanted.
I just passed the one year anniversary of my Dad’s untimely passing, which happens to fall on the calendar right next to the date that my Mom passed away nine years ago. So, the third week of January is basically going to suck from here on out.
But I also remember the small things they both gave me. Once I gave up acting as a profession and got a “real job”, my Mom and I used to call each other at 10 AM every day. The calls were short, mostly the “Hey, how’s your morning going?” variety, but I treasured them and looked forward to them every day. To this day, I still glance at the clock on my phone at 10 AM and wish I could give her a call.
So do what ‘Grain says and call your folks, OK? We can’t call ours anymore and it would totally make their day.
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Nice writing tengrain…see along with your superb ability to write great snark you are really a sensitive fella too.
Thank you for sharing this wonderful glimpse into your life. I, too, had a wonderful father.
That is why I am…
joesdaughter
Your post brought tears to my eyes. The fourth anniversary of my mother passing was in December; my father has been gone 14 years. As TG said, call them if you’ve got them!! Or visit, or e-mail…
Man, TG, you’re gonna make me cry.
My mother died in January 2003. I was glad to know she wasn’t here to see New Orleans after Katrina because she loved that city like no other. My father had died in March nine years before.
It really sucks getting old because you know this is going to happen to you. My parents were old when they had me, so they both lived long and good lives. Maybe it was better for me to be as old as I was when they died. It still sucked.
Thanks for sharing.
My mom moved on a couple years ago.
Thanks for reminding me that I should call my dad, Tengrain. That was beautiful.
~
Folks -
I wasn’t trying to make anyone cry, I’m sorry about that. So, give your pops a call, just make him happy.
Rgds,
TG
That was beautiful, Tengrain.
Your Parents sound really wonderful.
I still have both my parents, who are in their seventies, and one surviving Grandparent who will turn 100 this coming summer. While all are currently in good health, it is always in the back of my mind that one day that call is coming – and I don’t think I’ll handle it very well at all. Between you and the recent episodes of “How I Met Your Mother”, I’ve definitely taken the hint…..call today, because they may not be here tomorrow.
Thanks.
_Very_ nicely put.
My mom’s gone, my dad’s a sprightly 85. I think I’ will give him a call….
What a wonderful dad you had Tengrain. So true, the smallest gestures can mean the very most.
My Mom was taken many many years ago…very suddenly. She was only 42…an irresponsible truck driver took her in an instant. Over the years, I think constantly about what she would think about this or that, or how much she would love my hubby & he would love her. Not to mention how much I still miss her…that never diminishes.
Indeed…if you’re lucky enough to have them with you still…don’t wait to let them know you love them…in an instant, it could be too late.
Thank you Tengrain…you have touched a heart string in many of us.
awww, 10G. i have tears in my eyes.
Damn it, why is it so dusty in here? And why does it keep getting in my eyes?
I used to deliver the newspaper as a kid. Every freaking day from the time I was 9 until I was 16. On Saturdays, my dad would wake up early with me and drive me to the paper station so I didn’t have to ride my bike at 5 am (weekends were early papers, weekdays after school). Our usual ritual after delivering papers was going to BK or the donut shop for a treat before going home.
One morning at Burger King after delivering papers, an old man walks up to me and my dad. He asks how we’re doing and what we’re doing up so early on the weekend. He tells us we’re both good, hardworking people. Then he tells me to remember this day. This is one of the best times that I’ll spend with my dad. And sure as shit I think about that day a lot. I remember the weather, the dawning day, the clothes we were wearing. That old man cast some sort of voodoo memory spell on me and I’m pretty grateful for that.
Xg,
Great tribute not only to your parents, but to two people who know how to show love for each other. My father passed on in September, joining my Mom who died too young 23 years ago. We’re been going through things, thus discovering interesting things and thoughts.
Very moving, TG. Thank you.
Your writing in this post comes directly from your heart and I could feel the love you have for your Dad. It struck an emotional chord for me since it brings up past memorable good times with my graduated Dad. Thanks for the reminder TG.