Friday, October 19, 2018

Thanks, Dad


Today would have been my father's 86th birthday. I mowed the lawn in MD on Thursday, and it dawned on me that I've been mowing twice as much this summer, and each time I've thanked my father. I'm not even completely conscious of doing it, but I whisper a little "Thanks, Dad" every time I mow on a slope. Here's the story.

I desperately wanted to mow the lawn when I was growing up, but my father didn't just fill the mower with gas and let me loose; he embarked on a series of safety-based teaching sessions. First, he made me change my shoes from flip-flops to sneakers and told me to never, never mow the lawn in flip-flops. Then I learned how to start the mower and he walked beside me while I cut a few rows. Our front yard was a long slope, and when we got to that part, he told me to turn the mower off and we would try it again next week. We did the same thing for the next few weeks, and finally he decided that I was ready to mow the slope. He turned the mower off, and explained in detail that I must always mow the slope from side to side, never, never up and down. Grass is slippery, and if I slipped, my foot would slide directly into the mower blades. He had me repeat this several times, and then we started to mow the slope, side to side. He walked beside me, we finished the lawn, and we mowed like that, together, with Dad supervising, for the rest of the summer.

He did finally allow me to mow by myself the next year, checking that I had sneakers on and with a warning about mowing side to side on the slope. It was my job to mow the lawn until I went to college, but then I didn't mow for years because I lived in apartments. We bought the house in NJ where the whole back yard is a long slope, and I thought of Dad for a moment almost every time I've mowed there.

His health started declining almost a decade ago, and he was eventually diagnosed with diabetes, heart disease, end stage renal disease, prostate cancer, bladder cancer, and complications with all of these. He was sick, scared, and in pain, and because of those things, our relationship deteriorated to the point that he would barely speak to me. My sister and I took him to daily radiation treatments, doctor appointments, the pharmacy, grocery shopping, and a million other things almost every day for several years, but he wouldn't even say hello or goodbye at the end. It was a difficult time for all of us by the time he passed away in January.

He was never a warm and talkative man, and things were quite sad, frustrating, and difficult at the end. But with all the mowing this summer, and being careful on the slopes, it finally dawned on me that even if he wasn't the kind of father I wanted, he had still cared about me, as evidenced by all the care he took with teaching me how to mow. I do apologize for this rambling post that isn't like my usual, but it's something I've been thinking about a lot, and I wanted to write it down as it has resolved a lot for me. So, be safe, go side to side on the slopes, and thanks, Dad.

21 comments:

  1. Isn't that how it is ..... we may not love everything about our Dads, but I think we all have good memories of the lessons they taught us.

    P.S. I was in charge of mowing at my granddad's house too. We had a slope --- always mow side to side so you don't fall. Yep. I still have all my toes so I guess the lesson was right.

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  2. This post brought tears to my eyes. I never had a dad (well, I did but he wasn't part of my life) and am glad you recognize that even with the issues, it is good to have a dad.

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    1. Thank you, Kim. I'm a little ashamed that it has taken me so long to realize that my parents were human, did the best that they could, were present in my life, and that was enough. I do wish things could have been different for you.

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  3. Wow, this post is so poignant. Makes me sad that I can’t hug my dad, but thankful that he was able to express his feelings before he died. His distance from his children wasn’t because he didn’t care but because he had so many of his own demons. Peace to you.

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    1. Thank you, Marcy. I'm glad that your father was able express his feelings; I think that's important and one of the things I missed because my father never really could, in words, anyway. I've finally realized that both of my parents did the best that they could, and that was enough.

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  4. Okay. So now I'm all verklempt. What a poignant story and a beautiful memory, Bonny. Thank you so very much for sharing. I am fortunate to still have my dad around, although our relationship can only best be described as . . . complicated. (He is very much a "man of his generation" -- as one of my mom's nurses described him.) Hugs to you on your dad's birthday. XO

    PS -- I have never mowed the grass. Not once. I am allergic to grass -- especially when it's "disturbed", and must stay in the house (to this day) whenever our grass is mowed. (My parents made up for it by assigning me inside-chores. . . )

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  5. Oh, Bonny - I too am all verklempt! Isn't it amazing the things that stay with us from our parents our entire lives? Small things, but a big impact. Thank you so much for sharing this beautiful story!

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  6. This is a beautiful story about how we can show someone love in a way that may not be obvious but is truly meaningful. You painted a poignant image of your dad teaching you a skill that has stayed with you and helped you for your whole life and that's so special. Like Kym, I have never mowed the grass. I keep thinking I should learn but then . . . I don't! Lots of love and peace to you on your dad's birthday.

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  7. My dad wasn't the 'warmest/huggy' person either, but he cared about us fiercely. He was also a man of few (very few) words. I remember one time when the car he was driving was hit by another driver and one of my brothers was in the car. He called the man's insurance and started the conversation calmly but soon he was being given a run around and he just cut the person off and told them the facts, the man had no drivers license and was at fault. End of discussion. He managed to show up at each place we (the kids) worked a few days or so after we started and would 'check it out'. I didn't catch on to that until it happened more than once. Our parents would have had a lot in common I think.

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    1. Thank you, Helen. I'm a bit ashamed that it has taken me so long (61 years!) to understand and accept that my parents were human, loved me, and did the best that they could, even if I couldn't see or accept that at the time. Your father sounds like a wonderful man who did care about all of you fiercely, and we are lucky to have had parents like that.

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  8. Your story brought tears to my eyes, Bonny. A wonderful thing about getting older is that I began to realize my parents did the best they could at the time. My relationship with both of them was complicated, but I grew up in a house full of the demons of mental illness and my parents had relationship difficulties. In spite of all that, I know they loved me and did their best for me under the circumstances. They were, after all, just human with feet of clay and lots of problems of their own. It's wonderful that you have come to this place with your dad and your memories of him. Love comes in its own form, and we have to embrace whatever form it takes. After all, it's still love. And you never lost a toe!

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  9. Oh Bonny! What a beautiful post. Thanks for sharing.

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  10. What a wonderful post about your Dad. My Dad was also not overly affectionate, playful, or warm. Our relationship was complicated and as he was diagnosed with cancer and then slipped into dementia, our time together became even more difficult. I can relate to your story. Although he was far from perfect, I believe he loved us in his own way. Thank you for writing about your Dad - as he was. I am sure deep down he appreciated all you and your sister did for him.

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  11. This is a beautiful post, Bonny - I love that you found some peace through the story (and shared it with us). Your dad would be proud of you (and all the safe mowing)!

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  12. Thank you for sharing this memory of your dad. Parents are complicated, dads maybe more so. Thinking back on what they did, or didn't do, how them approached life, as well as their children, can often bring up hurtful or sad memories. Hearing your story reminds me how hard my dad tried, even if not always successfully.

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  13. Im glad you told us about your father. You all listen to my saga all the time! it is such a sweet part of our craft community.

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    1. Thank you, Kathy! I was a little concerned when I wrote it that it wasn't the usual "happy friday, have a good weekend" post, but it was honest and felt like a good way to honor my father's birthday, so I'm glad you appreciated it. It is wonderful that we share and connect with each other through our stories.

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  14. a beautiful tribute to your father. I never wanted to help mow and would hide from my dad. I still was roped into mowing!

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  15. Thank-you for sharing that with us Bonny. It brought tears to my eyes too. I'm glad you've been able to take a different look at things (I second guess myself and decisions I made those last 4 months of my Dad's life all the time) and see it in a better perspective. Growing up is hard...you're only 61! xoxo And my Dad taught me to mow too. :-)

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  16. I am sorry you didn't have the kind of relationship with your father that you wanted, but it's clear from your story that he did love you (even if he didn't show it as you would have liked). I'm glad that you are able to get some perspective on your relationship now.

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  17. Oh, that's lovely. I rarely mow our lawn, but did my mother's for years and then passed that little chore on to my daughters (with direction, if not direct oversight!). :)

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