My Dad would have been 83 years old tomorrow. He died a little less than 10 years ago. He's been absent 23% of my life, and yet I miss him terribly. He was a huge part of my Sophie's life, and yet she's just 11 years old. How can that be? I think of her as a baby, and I see her in his arms. I think about how different certain things would be if he were still around. Would Sophie be able to talk? Would Hannah be happier...feel a little less abandoned by her idiot father with her Grandpa's arms wrapped around her? Would my Mom have it a little easier? Would holidays be a little more, well...more? I am sad.
I miss him...
when I drive north up Lima Center from Scio Church at night, the route he sometimes took home from work at midnight.
when I see an usher at church struggle slightly when rising from genuflecting.
when I pull into my Mom's driveway, I can still see him carrying an old coffee can full of chicken feed over to the hen house.
when I fix anything with duct tape or a paper clip!
stew, pancakes, rhubarb, or asparagus
when Hannah wears the red Gap sweatshirt I bought for him.
coffee and donuts after Sunday Mass
word searches and solitaire
the way he patted my hand
I can see him sitting at the kitchen table with his funny glasses at the end of his nose and his old ratty white undershirt and too small sweatpants and his crazy uncombed hair.
damn...I miss that old man.
Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The Old Man and the Sign
My Dad sent me a sign tonight. It was Rodney.
When I visit my Dad at the cemetery, I chat with him a bit, walk over to the older relatives, back to my Dad, and then I glance over to Rodney and wave. Tonight, when I asked for a sign, which I always do, the Old Man made me really look at Rod's headstone.
July 31, 1999
10 years is a long time, but it really seems like yesterday.
I was just telling a co-worker today about Rodney, because she lost a young friend in an accident this week. Too sad.
I still remember that Saturday afternoon. My parents, Hannah, and a brother were at a picnic. I was about to join them, but got a call from Sister Helen (Rod's aunt). There'd been a farm accident and to pray. I walked up and down that sidewalk at my folks' house, carrying baby Sophie, whispering Hail Mary after Hail Mary.
Well, my prayers were answered, but not how I wanted, if that makes sense. Rod was called to Heaven. Some might argue where he went, but I know. He left a daughter and a woman who had loved him, and I was lucky enough to get to know those special girls after Rod passed.
I wasn't always nice enough to Rodney. Anyone who knew him knew it was sometimes hard to be nice though. Boy, he could tease me. One time, when we were teenagers, he made me so mad that I snatched his hat off his head and threw it on top of my parents' house. People laughed. He laughed, but I think I hurt his feelings, for which now I am sorry. He was just a boy to me...always.
Fast forward...at my wedding reception, where smoking was prohibited (Yes, even then, I was vehement!), Rod lit up. I told him off, but that didn't change anything. What a character! And then he made me feel so loved. He told my new husband that if he ever hurt me, he would be sorry, very sorry. He probably pounded his fist or something like that, and I'm sure gave him a very scary look to which I replied with my own scary look back at him, but no one could make him behave and secretly, I was pleased. I am sure that Rod would have carried out that threat if I had asked him, but I didn't want him to get into trouble. (And the ex-husband is "sorry" enough on his own!)
Rod was a good ol' boy until the end of his life...in many ways, but in the most obvious way to me, he was a boy in his heart, but trapped in a troubled body and hurt spirit. He's better now, easier now, content. But now, when a storm goes through, it's not God bowling; it's Rod thundering through, watering the crops, using those powerful feelings for good.
Life may have been hard for him at times, but he enjoyed it the best that he could. Someone reminded me tonight about Rod's laughter...
Can't you hear him laughing with us right now?
I can. He had a laugh. Man, he had a laugh. And I know I made him laugh a time or two.
After the funeral, they gave me something to remember him, not that I could ever, ever forget my lifetime friend, that boy that grew up down the road. They gave me a hat...a seed farm hat. I'm not sure that they remembered the hat incident, but I do. And I know that Rod got them to give it to me. I keep it at my Mom's on the top shelf of the closet in the spare room, because I just want to keep it. Keep it there. Keep it safe.
I know that Rod is one of my guardian angels. And now...I've gone through at least a dozen Kleenex. My eyes are swollen, and I'll have a crying headache tomorrow. I hope Rod knows that I would not do that, that crying, for just anyone.
So, where was my Dad trying to point me?
Embrace life. Don't be afraid to enjoy who comes into your life. The people in your life are what makes it wonderful and special and meaningful.
So, that's not exactly how the Old Man would have said it, but more like...
You do what you have to do.
And he probably would have added...
Oh...just get along with people.
And for good measure, Pop would have thrown in...
Are those your pajamas you're wearing out of the house?
He thought everything I wore in the 80s were pajamas. (I'm too sad. I gotta end on funny.)
I love Rodney. He is in my heart.
When I visit my Dad at the cemetery, I chat with him a bit, walk over to the older relatives, back to my Dad, and then I glance over to Rodney and wave. Tonight, when I asked for a sign, which I always do, the Old Man made me really look at Rod's headstone.
July 31, 1999
10 years is a long time, but it really seems like yesterday.
I was just telling a co-worker today about Rodney, because she lost a young friend in an accident this week. Too sad.
I still remember that Saturday afternoon. My parents, Hannah, and a brother were at a picnic. I was about to join them, but got a call from Sister Helen (Rod's aunt). There'd been a farm accident and to pray. I walked up and down that sidewalk at my folks' house, carrying baby Sophie, whispering Hail Mary after Hail Mary.
Well, my prayers were answered, but not how I wanted, if that makes sense. Rod was called to Heaven. Some might argue where he went, but I know. He left a daughter and a woman who had loved him, and I was lucky enough to get to know those special girls after Rod passed.
I wasn't always nice enough to Rodney. Anyone who knew him knew it was sometimes hard to be nice though. Boy, he could tease me. One time, when we were teenagers, he made me so mad that I snatched his hat off his head and threw it on top of my parents' house. People laughed. He laughed, but I think I hurt his feelings, for which now I am sorry. He was just a boy to me...always.
Fast forward...at my wedding reception, where smoking was prohibited (Yes, even then, I was vehement!), Rod lit up. I told him off, but that didn't change anything. What a character! And then he made me feel so loved. He told my new husband that if he ever hurt me, he would be sorry, very sorry. He probably pounded his fist or something like that, and I'm sure gave him a very scary look to which I replied with my own scary look back at him, but no one could make him behave and secretly, I was pleased. I am sure that Rod would have carried out that threat if I had asked him, but I didn't want him to get into trouble. (And the ex-husband is "sorry" enough on his own!)
Rod was a good ol' boy until the end of his life...in many ways, but in the most obvious way to me, he was a boy in his heart, but trapped in a troubled body and hurt spirit. He's better now, easier now, content. But now, when a storm goes through, it's not God bowling; it's Rod thundering through, watering the crops, using those powerful feelings for good.
Life may have been hard for him at times, but he enjoyed it the best that he could. Someone reminded me tonight about Rod's laughter...
Can't you hear him laughing with us right now?
I can. He had a laugh. Man, he had a laugh. And I know I made him laugh a time or two.
After the funeral, they gave me something to remember him, not that I could ever, ever forget my lifetime friend, that boy that grew up down the road. They gave me a hat...a seed farm hat. I'm not sure that they remembered the hat incident, but I do. And I know that Rod got them to give it to me. I keep it at my Mom's on the top shelf of the closet in the spare room, because I just want to keep it. Keep it there. Keep it safe.
I know that Rod is one of my guardian angels. And now...I've gone through at least a dozen Kleenex. My eyes are swollen, and I'll have a crying headache tomorrow. I hope Rod knows that I would not do that, that crying, for just anyone.
So, where was my Dad trying to point me?
Embrace life. Don't be afraid to enjoy who comes into your life. The people in your life are what makes it wonderful and special and meaningful.
So, that's not exactly how the Old Man would have said it, but more like...
You do what you have to do.
And he probably would have added...
Oh...just get along with people.
And for good measure, Pop would have thrown in...
Are those your pajamas you're wearing out of the house?
He thought everything I wore in the 80s were pajamas. (I'm too sad. I gotta end on funny.)
I love Rodney. He is in my heart.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Memorial Day (Weekend)
At work yesterday, a few people asked me what my big plans for the weekend are.
Well, I do realize that for most people Memorial Day is day off work, and I am not complaining about that! Most folks plan to go up north or to the lake or to have big barbecue in their own backyard. As well they should! We all work hard enough during the week and deserve a mini-holiday.
However, some seemed surprised when I said my only real plan is what I plan every year at this time...to go to the cemetery. This morning, I'll take my daughters and pick up my Mother. She's bought a few plants, and we'll place them on the graves of people we remember. This is in preparation for the actual day. Today, we'll visit each family member, and it'll be light-hearted. We'll be doing something, and Hannah will be asking questions, trying to remember where some of the older relatives are.
On Monday, I'll go by the cemetery again. But then, I will go to my Dad's grave, and place my hand on my heart and I will remember and pray.
We remember how you loved us to Your death,
And still we celebrate for You are with us here.
And we believe that we will see You when you come in Your glory, Lord.
We remember, we celebrate, we believe!
Well, I do realize that for most people Memorial Day is day off work, and I am not complaining about that! Most folks plan to go up north or to the lake or to have big barbecue in their own backyard. As well they should! We all work hard enough during the week and deserve a mini-holiday.
However, some seemed surprised when I said my only real plan is what I plan every year at this time...to go to the cemetery. This morning, I'll take my daughters and pick up my Mother. She's bought a few plants, and we'll place them on the graves of people we remember. This is in preparation for the actual day. Today, we'll visit each family member, and it'll be light-hearted. We'll be doing something, and Hannah will be asking questions, trying to remember where some of the older relatives are.
On Monday, I'll go by the cemetery again. But then, I will go to my Dad's grave, and place my hand on my heart and I will remember and pray.
We remember how you loved us to Your death,
And still we celebrate for You are with us here.
And we believe that we will see You when you come in Your glory, Lord.
We remember, we celebrate, we believe!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
My Pop!
My Dad died 8 years ago this afternoon. It was a Monday. He got sick and went to the hospital the day before. The time seems elongated to me. Just Sunday to Monday takes forever in my memory. So much happened, yet there was so much waiting. 8 years...so much has happened, yet there is still so much waiting.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
My Pop!
My Pop would have been 81 years old on Sunday! Happy Birthday to him! I still think of him so much. At times, I can feel his presence. I think he visits, not quite as often as he used to after he first died in 2000. I know that his angel's wing has kept Sophie and Hannah safe during so many close calls. At other times, like tonight, a memory hits me so hard that I cry from the overwhelming.
Ever week on the way down Jackson Road into Ann Arbor for music therapy, I glance over at the Old Farmer Grant's Greenhouse and Store. I usually say something to the girls about the great bread pudding that they had or all the Christmas ornaments I acquired there cheap when they were going out of business. They were old-time, classics left-over from another era, no cheap plastics, but solid, sturdy.
Tonight, it's gone. Not completely gone, but it's in the process of being torn down, must be either to make way for the boulevard expansion or the new housing/retail development going in. I knew that it wouldn't sit vacant there as a shrine to my childhood, but it just hit me. I didn't even need to close my eyes, which was good, since I was the driver.
I flashbacked to walking up and down the aisles. As my Daddy was chatting with one of the Grants or picking out a nice cut of meat, I'd be looking at the candy, cookies, muffins (orange...my favorite! never had another that good since!), or across the entranceway at all the treasures, the flowers and gifts. And oh, we had to go and look at the fountain on the east side of the small greenhouse at the front.
Tonight, I could feel being there, pushing the cart down the warm foods/bakery aisle under that low ceiling. I felt Dad behind me. I felt that warm, safe, security. I really needed that feeling tonight, that reminder of feeling taken care of. I miss that Old Man! My heart hurts.
Ever week on the way down Jackson Road into Ann Arbor for music therapy, I glance over at the Old Farmer Grant's Greenhouse and Store. I usually say something to the girls about the great bread pudding that they had or all the Christmas ornaments I acquired there cheap when they were going out of business. They were old-time, classics left-over from another era, no cheap plastics, but solid, sturdy.
Tonight, it's gone. Not completely gone, but it's in the process of being torn down, must be either to make way for the boulevard expansion or the new housing/retail development going in. I knew that it wouldn't sit vacant there as a shrine to my childhood, but it just hit me. I didn't even need to close my eyes, which was good, since I was the driver.
I flashbacked to walking up and down the aisles. As my Daddy was chatting with one of the Grants or picking out a nice cut of meat, I'd be looking at the candy, cookies, muffins (orange...my favorite! never had another that good since!), or across the entranceway at all the treasures, the flowers and gifts. And oh, we had to go and look at the fountain on the east side of the small greenhouse at the front.
Tonight, I could feel being there, pushing the cart down the warm foods/bakery aisle under that low ceiling. I felt Dad behind me. I felt that warm, safe, security. I really needed that feeling tonight, that reminder of feeling taken care of. I miss that Old Man! My heart hurts.
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