Personal

I’m trying hard today to stave off a real sadness. These two days are full of meaning, both related to my Dad.

I originally passed along the story of our meeting here. I’ve never quite been able to bring myself to update the story in any meaningful or coherent way, though I’ve often felt like the story should be updated. Even now, that’s tough to do, but a link will probably suffice for the objective details.

Father’s Day 2009 was the first I’d actually spent with my Dad. They were visiting from Arkansas, where they’d moved after his retirement in 2007. A 50th class reunion, a visit to Iowa City, a first visit with a new great-granddaughter, and a trip to the old hometown of Rockford were all part of an ambitious plan for the last few weeks in June. His health ran the gamut on that trip, seeming to swing wildly over just the course of a week.

Father’s Day 2009 was on June 21 – his 67th birthday. I was so thrilled to actually get to spend part of Father’s Day with him. We took them to breakfast at Perkins in Coralville and I was literally edgy with excitement as we pulled into the parking lot. Though he was struggling a bit, it was another of those times when, in public with him, I knew people would look at the two of us together and think, “Yep, father and son.” Clearly, that had never happened before we met in 2002. And, I loved that feeling of connectedness.

A year later, it’s hard to know how much of the memory of that morning is real and how much was painted by subsequent events. I do remember a long hug as I helped him into the front seat of the Saturn, then lifted his small oxygen tank onto the floor. It seems now that it was a longer hug than normal. I know he told me he loved me, but I remember an earnestness and uncertainty in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. I remember how easily I told him I loved him, too, and how quickly the smile lit up his eyes and face. And I remember, maybe, thinking that it would be the last time I saw him, then pushing that thought away as we drove home.

It was.

Today would have been his 68th birthday. I’ve lost track of the times in the past two days when I would have loved to just pick up the phone and shoot the breeze with him – to jokingly call him “old-timer” and talk about the weather, politics, family, and Linux, all under the guise of wishing him a happy Father’s Day and birthday.

Before I got to know him, there wasn’t any particular hole around Father’s Day. I didn’t wonder too often about him and never did so with any strong feeling of longing. The last two days have been full of longing. Even though I’m a father, myself, I think the meaning of Father’s Day has forever changed.