My Mom and Dad were not perfect. Dad was less perfect than I realized during his lifetime. Finding out that he was less perfect that I thought never bothered me - ever - during or after his lifetime.
Everything I’d find out about him made me love him more - even the supposedly ‘bad stuff’ just made him more ‘human’ in my eyes.
My Dad hung the moon, that’s all there is to it.
My family can tell you more about Dad’s life and health than I can. I missed out on a lot of time with him, because I was busy living in the US - far from home - while they all were growing old together. Others took care of everything my parents needed during their lifetime. I was the night-time phone support that only my Mom used.
Dad’s hearing aids made phone calls difficult.
We fostered our relationship when I showed up for rare visits - and we’d stuff a lifetime full of conversation into a few nights while sharing one or three bottles of wine. I loved those conversations with him.
Dad’s health started truly declining in 2014 or so. In December of 2014 he jumped off the devil’s shovel for the first time. I didn’t know how close he was to death until I saw the state of the kitchen cabinets at my parent’s house during the X-mas visit that year. But that’s a story for another day.
My mother loved traveling. She dragged Dad all over creation with her. She’d have the idea for a trip or an adventure - and he’d implement it with her. That is, unless he had the idea and she’d implement it with him. I don’t know who wanted to buy the VW conversion van, but they certainly bought it - complete with pop-up roof and baby hammock for the new baby they just had .
And I am certain that Dad did not want to drive to the country on Sunday afternoons to find a creek where the kids could play after he’d been up since 3 am preparing this week’s Sunday sermon. I am certain that he just wanted to nap - and nap he did - by the creek - as Mom was fixing lentil soup - from a can - and the kids were playing in the creek. That’s at least how I remember it. But I digress.
With Mom and Dad, the right people found each other - and they created magic together: All ideas - all the time - and drive - and an itch to keep moving on that was insatiable. Life threw crap at them right and left, and they just parried the blows - but they did just parry - they did more than that, they took the crap, they collected it and they planted flowers with it.
That’s what they did - they planted flowers.
They bought that VW van, because they needed to seat one kid more than their previous car could. Affordable German cars, at that time, seated 5 people - and in 1975 my parents had added a 6th person to our family with my little sister, how had Down syndrome (parry!). The choices, as my parents presented them to us kids, were to buy a small Mercedes or a VW conversion van. My parents explained to us children - we were 10, 9, 7 and newborn at the time - that we could make this choice as a family. It didn’t seem to me like it was a terribly difficult choice to make. There was really only one option, right? The VW bus, obviously - who would choose anything else?
My Dad did make some strong arguments for the Mercedes’ safety, comfort, longevity and reputation. But in the end, everyone’s sense of adventure won out. Each child put up some money for the van. If I remember correctly, I bought a fire extinguisher - or maybe the seatbelts. Mom and Dad didn’t need us to buy any part of the car. But VW gave new owners a list to pick from, and what better way than to involve the kids in the purchase.
Dad was a preacher during his lifetime. Like me, he was an introverted extrovert. He could sit with a book or with some music for hours, but he really blossomed when he could share all of him with those around him. There was a lot to share! He was the guy who sang, not in the shower, but in the staircase walking up to the 4th floor apartment of the house we lived in.
Mom loved to travel. After 2014 it became more difficult for them to travel together, because most trips necessitated different accommodations for them. My mother discovered coupons on ebay at some time in her 60s or 70s - and - to the dismay of most of her friends - she gave travel coupons she had auctioned as gifts from then on out. She mostly planned on taking trips with those friends, but given the troubles she had getting her own trips scheduled, the trips with friends did not fare much better.
Occasionally, a trip would happen, though - and sometimes - Dad required accommodations that were not available at whatever location Mom was at. In that case, Mom deposited Dad at a nursing home as close by as possible. But many times Dad’s nursing home was far from Mom’s location - and Mom would not be able to visit him easily during their stays.
If you have ever been in a relationship with a narcissist, you recognize this as a set-up for disaster, right? Dad is sickly and needs assisted living care - and Mom continues living, going on vacations. As she’s living her life she’s either ‘dragging’ Dad with her (“That poor man. He was struggling with the suitcase.”) or she was ‘dropping him off’ at a nursing home (“That poor man! She left him behind at the nursing home.”). How dare she!
She heard those things from her friends. I heard those things from her friends after my father’s death. I never heard my father say anything like that. And what did I hear my mother say?
She told me about picking him up from the nursing home - and about the nurses and fellow inmates, who did not want to let him leave. They reported that he had been the life of the party.
He entertained the “troops”, led them in song, told stories, played games and was just generally a joy to be around. He was making the life of everyone around him easier. He found his joy in life - and sharing his joy was his bliss. That’s all. It’s a simple recipe, really.
I got a taste of that joy - in the eyes of my sister about a year ago. Then I saw it again - in my grandkid.
I miss you Dad. I am still looking for my joy, but I am glad that I get to share a brain with you!