You know...
...it's funny what goes through a person's mind in time of distress. I'm very upset about my father and his current health problems. Until we find out exactly what's wrong, I'm going to be on pins and needles. The other day, my father sent me the gushiest Mother's Day card that I've ever seen. I know him, he read the cards and chose this one because it held the sentiment that he wanted to convey. He's never been quite so gushy before. So, now I'm wondering if he didn't know that it might be one of the last cards that he would ever send me. I called his house on Mother's Day and told him that I loved him, that's something I don't do as much as I should but the mere fact that I did say that has me thinking odd things just like the card he sent.
Anyone who's been reading this blog for any length of time knows how close my father and I are. He and my daughter are my closest friends in the world. I adore him. I call him just to chat and if anything new, bad or indifferent happens in my life. He's one of the few people that I tell everything to. We enjoy each other's company and we travel together. He is my bridge partner, a very large concession for him because he has been playing for 50 years and is one of the best bridge players in the world while I will absent mindedly throw the wrong or make a bad bid and blow our chances at winning. He still plays with me...although he does shoot a bit of sarcasm at me for the rest of the evening after I blow a hand.
He taught me more than anyone else in the world has ever taught me. He even taught me to knit. I didn't think to ask him how he knew how to knit until I was an adult. He would let me iron his handkerchiefs when I was a little girl. I wonder how many times he blew his nose into an overly starched piece of cloth. When I was about 6, he promised to marry me upon my urging, if no one else married me before I turned 15. Lucky for him, I came to my senses before that. He's a big, strong man who grew up after the depression and he was a little boy during WWII. He gave me the scrapbook that he kept as a little boy showing the activities of the 101rst Airborne. When he grew up, he joined the 101rst as a paratrooper, realizing his boyhood dream. He was the first person in his family to graduate from high school, much less college.
When he married my mother and started a family, he worked days, raised 6 children and went to night school so that he could realize another dream of his, that of being an attorney. He retired early from the profession because his high ethics wouldn't allow him to work in a field so full of inethical people. In my entire life, I've never met a man so true to his own standards, and high standards they are.
He loves his children, even if that means tough love. He was a practioner of that new thing called tough love long before Donahue or Dr. Phil ever thought of the term. He and I had a falling out and didn't speak for ten years because I'm just as stubborn and hard headed as he is. Thank God, we became close again. He has been a major factor in my life, even when we weren't speaking. I can remember lessons that he taught me in 1965 that have shaped who I am today and have held me in good stead all of my life. If I had never decided to call him one day to put an end to our misunderstanding, I wouldn't be able to live with myself today. I thank God that we found each other again and I hope that no one ever lets pride, anger or fear keep them from mending fences with the people that all of us should have in our lives. We only hurt ourselves when we do that. My wonderful mother knew that and even though she didn't speak to him much in the last years of her life, she cared enough about ME to urge me to call my father. When my mother was dying, I spoke to my father and had him go to Virginia to visit her, something that I'm very proud of and happy about. The last time I spoke to my mother, as weak as she was, I could hear the smile in her voice that told me about the last visit from the love of her life. As strong as Dad is, I occasionally catch him tearing up over a song from his youth making me wonder what the significance of the song was. He even tears up over silly old movies like Casablanca. I always pretend not to notice his tears, he would be embarrassed to know that I saw them. I love that man.
Right now, my proud father is lying in a hospital room with tubes in and out of him and I can hardly bear it. If we hadn't reconciled, no one would have so much as called me to let me know that this was going on. But, since we have become so close, I'm his power-of-attorney for health care. He trusts me to do the right thing for him and I told him that I knew what to do and would do what he wanted no matter what anyone else said. Now, I wonder if I could do that. I would want to selfishly keep him around but I probably will do exactly what he wants me to do because he trusted me to do so and I would never betray a trust. It will just be harder than I thought.
With any luck at all, everything will be OK and I will have my father around for years to come. He's always been such a strong healthy man that I really never expected anything to get to him.
One other time he and I had a disagreement and that one ended when I gave birth to my daughter. My father called me while I was in the recovery room. I asked him if he thought my husband might be disappointed that I didn't give him a boy. My father responded, "Oh no, daddies always love thier little girls."
And no matter how big we little girls get, we always love our daddies.
...it's funny what goes through a person's mind in time of distress. I'm very upset about my father and his current health problems. Until we find out exactly what's wrong, I'm going to be on pins and needles. The other day, my father sent me the gushiest Mother's Day card that I've ever seen. I know him, he read the cards and chose this one because it held the sentiment that he wanted to convey. He's never been quite so gushy before. So, now I'm wondering if he didn't know that it might be one of the last cards that he would ever send me. I called his house on Mother's Day and told him that I loved him, that's something I don't do as much as I should but the mere fact that I did say that has me thinking odd things just like the card he sent.
Anyone who's been reading this blog for any length of time knows how close my father and I are. He and my daughter are my closest friends in the world. I adore him. I call him just to chat and if anything new, bad or indifferent happens in my life. He's one of the few people that I tell everything to. We enjoy each other's company and we travel together. He is my bridge partner, a very large concession for him because he has been playing for 50 years and is one of the best bridge players in the world while I will absent mindedly throw the wrong or make a bad bid and blow our chances at winning. He still plays with me...although he does shoot a bit of sarcasm at me for the rest of the evening after I blow a hand.
He taught me more than anyone else in the world has ever taught me. He even taught me to knit. I didn't think to ask him how he knew how to knit until I was an adult. He would let me iron his handkerchiefs when I was a little girl. I wonder how many times he blew his nose into an overly starched piece of cloth. When I was about 6, he promised to marry me upon my urging, if no one else married me before I turned 15. Lucky for him, I came to my senses before that. He's a big, strong man who grew up after the depression and he was a little boy during WWII. He gave me the scrapbook that he kept as a little boy showing the activities of the 101rst Airborne. When he grew up, he joined the 101rst as a paratrooper, realizing his boyhood dream. He was the first person in his family to graduate from high school, much less college.
When he married my mother and started a family, he worked days, raised 6 children and went to night school so that he could realize another dream of his, that of being an attorney. He retired early from the profession because his high ethics wouldn't allow him to work in a field so full of inethical people. In my entire life, I've never met a man so true to his own standards, and high standards they are.
He loves his children, even if that means tough love. He was a practioner of that new thing called tough love long before Donahue or Dr. Phil ever thought of the term. He and I had a falling out and didn't speak for ten years because I'm just as stubborn and hard headed as he is. Thank God, we became close again. He has been a major factor in my life, even when we weren't speaking. I can remember lessons that he taught me in 1965 that have shaped who I am today and have held me in good stead all of my life. If I had never decided to call him one day to put an end to our misunderstanding, I wouldn't be able to live with myself today. I thank God that we found each other again and I hope that no one ever lets pride, anger or fear keep them from mending fences with the people that all of us should have in our lives. We only hurt ourselves when we do that. My wonderful mother knew that and even though she didn't speak to him much in the last years of her life, she cared enough about ME to urge me to call my father. When my mother was dying, I spoke to my father and had him go to Virginia to visit her, something that I'm very proud of and happy about. The last time I spoke to my mother, as weak as she was, I could hear the smile in her voice that told me about the last visit from the love of her life. As strong as Dad is, I occasionally catch him tearing up over a song from his youth making me wonder what the significance of the song was. He even tears up over silly old movies like Casablanca. I always pretend not to notice his tears, he would be embarrassed to know that I saw them. I love that man.
Right now, my proud father is lying in a hospital room with tubes in and out of him and I can hardly bear it. If we hadn't reconciled, no one would have so much as called me to let me know that this was going on. But, since we have become so close, I'm his power-of-attorney for health care. He trusts me to do the right thing for him and I told him that I knew what to do and would do what he wanted no matter what anyone else said. Now, I wonder if I could do that. I would want to selfishly keep him around but I probably will do exactly what he wants me to do because he trusted me to do so and I would never betray a trust. It will just be harder than I thought.
With any luck at all, everything will be OK and I will have my father around for years to come. He's always been such a strong healthy man that I really never expected anything to get to him.
One other time he and I had a disagreement and that one ended when I gave birth to my daughter. My father called me while I was in the recovery room. I asked him if he thought my husband might be disappointed that I didn't give him a boy. My father responded, "Oh no, daddies always love thier little girls."
And no matter how big we little girls get, we always love our daddies.
posted by Meg Kelso | 4:58 AM
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