Today is my dad’s birthday. Well, it is if you are on the west coast, but it’s yesterday for the other side of the country. I only bring this up because some pretty important people live on the other side of the country, so they need to know that I haven’t forgotten what day my dad was born.
He lived a long and full life, and he got to stare over the table at my mom, which to him meant it was a good day. He loved the little things. He loved me. I felt it; he said it; I knew it. I’m one of the lucky ones. It could have gone differently if circumstances were different. It’s all because of a dog.
Pogo was an American bull terrier. He scared the wits out of me as a two year old. But he is the reason my mom met my dad.
We lived in Falls Church, Virginia. The “we” was my mom and two sisters and myself. We lived in an apartment and that apartment allowed dogs. So when my future dad was hunting for a place to stay with his two boys and his dog, he landed in the apartment upstairs from us. He had sworn off women, newly divorced from the mother of his children. Then he saw mom sitting on the steps of the apartment. He wanted to take care of her because she looked so tired.
He spent the next fifty-some years taking care of her, and if he were here today, he would be doing it still.
Wait, hold on, he is doing it still. I found another hand written note just last week, explaining to her what their standing was on H/HH bonds and how to deal with them in 2012. He tried to take care of everything.
I love my dad. I love him for loving my mom, for loving me, and for the way he loved his life.
I couldn’t ask for a better example of love between two people. I wanted that for myself. I even married someone with a big age difference, seeing that it worked for my mom and dad. It didn’t work for me. But in a way, I could feel his love for my mom so much that, though I’ll never have that, just being on the sidelines of it makes me believe it can happen for other people. And that makes the world a better place.
Happy birthday, Dad. I miss you so much.
October 24, 2008 at 4:48 am |
This made me cry. Our relationship was so complicated – more complicated than it should have been, I think, but I miss him every day. And I miss him for you, and for Gammy, every day.
The thing about finding the note… That is so him.
There’s only one thing I object to, and that’s you’re saying “though I’ll never have that.”
I’d only point you to what you said just above it: He had sworn off women, newly divorced from the mother of his children. Then he saw mom sitting on the steps of the apartment. He wanted to take care of her because she looked so tired.
You never know what you’ll never have until there’s no time left to have anything. You can’t possibly know that you’ll never have that until you’re dead. And here’s hoping that that’s decades and decades and centuries away.
I love you.
October 24, 2008 at 4:56 am |
E is right; life’s not over until it’s over.
I understand what you mean about being on the sidelines of something so wonderful. I’ve experienced that with my own parents. My brother and I grew up with the legend of high school sweethearts, something neither of us achieved, and now we kind of feel like failures (last time I was home for Christmas, we joked about how mom and dad’s fake kids would give them grandchildren before their real kids). But even just knowing that that kind of relationship exists in the world is enough.
Your dad spoke to me a total of about 3 times, I think, but I always liked him (even though he scared me sometimes – I never wanted him to think I was dumb!) and I adored the way he looked at your mom
October 24, 2008 at 5:01 am |
yea i teared up when you wished him a happy birthday. funny how i went my entire life not ever REALLY interacting with him until i was “forced” to go sit with him during the last few months. what’s really funny is that in that short short time i really felt like we connected in some odd way, it was like we finally understood each other, or like he was finally seeing me as someone he could actually interact with. and i felt incredibly important during that time, because i could understand him, which was sometimes hard to do because he wasn’t talking much. but the workers looked to me to find out what he was saying and what he needed and i felt important to him. funny huh? i’d sneak him doughnut holes and he’d smile and pat my hand. he had a way of smiling a giant smile through his eyes. i’m glad i got those few times with him in that kitchen, they actually meant more to me than anyone could really imagine. and he’ll continue to be with all of us. i know he’ll be with me when i am in their house staring at his chair, wherever gammy is, in any garden, wherever i hear the name “annie oakley”, and of course in the air vents. he’s everywhere, and that’s nice to know. happy birthday, pappap! <33333
October 24, 2008 at 5:07 am |
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