May 27, 1935, My Father’s Day

I did a pretty good job of asking my parents things I wanted to know. But no matter how well you do, there’s always more. Losing one’s parents changes you in ways you can’t easily describe.

It’s like a tether to the earth has been severed. Also, you’re pushed to the front of the line. Your group is next to go and leave a hole in the world for someone behind you.

Remembering Dad

My Dad was born 90 years ago today. I choose not to say it “would have been his 90th birthday.” This is the anniversary of his birth and he wasn’t able to make it this far. And I know I was lucky to have him around as long as I did.

Dad died in 2017 after a long time with Parkinson’s Disease. When I look back, his decline happened fairly quickly but at the time it seemed endless, for him. The day to day issues in long-term care. Things he could no longer do. His relentless optimism. Then cognitive changes that devastated all of us.

Trust a Comic to Get It

Sarah Silverman’s new comedy special is mostly centred on the deaths of her father and her stepmother just days apart. (It is touching and VERY funny because she has a dark sense of humour, like her dad.) In it, she said something that really hit home.

You don’t miss the younger, vital dad who was full of energy and active. You miss the dad at the end. The dad he became, with all of his creaks and complaints.

I think that’s a sign of acceptance. When a parent dies from an illness, you lose them a bit at a time and you adapt. Somehow, your brain tells you, oh, Dad can’t drive anymore. So he’s like this now. Oh, Dad forgets where he is sometimes. Remember that and adjust accordingly. At least, that’s how it went for me.

Always Focused on Gratitude

I have friends whose parents refuse to accept their circumstances. Don’t get me wrong, there was some push back at times. But my dad always thought he’d recover, get his license back, and regain his independence.

One day as we walked the hallways of long-term care, he said, “I’m fooling myself aren’t I?” I said, “I’d never count you out, Dad.” I knew that hope kept him going. That, and knowing we’d take him to McDonald’s occasionally. He pushed himself to walk with that walker every day, some days several times. There was no point in robbing him of his motivation.

If your father is still with you, his day is coming up next month. Today’s the day I’ll think of my dad. I miss him so much.