Fathers Day

The clock on my computer says that it is a quarter after 8 but the clock in the kitchen says 11:15. So I close my eyes and ask my body for the answer and receive a strongly worded WTF in response. The engine room can’t figure out why the captain would ask such a stupid question.

Been back east for a short while now but I never bothered to change the time on the ‘puter, phone or watch. Scratch that, I don’t wear a watch anymore. Anyhoo, I am stuck in some surreal timezone that I created for myself-do I care? No, not really.

During the last 41 years or so I think that I have missed spending Father’s Day with my dad just a couple of times so it is very noticeable to me when he is not around. Kind of funny really, neither one of us put much stock in these types of holidays, though if we were in the same city we would have gotten together.

But since the Traveling Jack show is on the road that wasn’t possible this year. Instead we spent it with other family members and that was just fine. The Dark Haired Beauty made me a beautiful card that I love. That is said with real emotion and gratitude. Not the kind of fake praise you give to a child that creates something ugly and useless. I know that is kind of unfair, but we all get a gift or two from our children that fit into that category. It was made with love, but…

Anyhoo, her big brother was upset because he left my gift at home and didn’t think to make a card for me. I wasn’t bothered by this. He is having so much fun on this trip that I can’t complain and more importantly, I know that he appreciates me and that is enough.

But just in case I didn’t he made a point of taking me aside and telling me that he carries me in his heart wherever he goes. And that simple phrase my friends did more for me than I can properly express. Later on he overheard someone telling their father that they were the best ever and told me that they were wrong because he thinks that I am.

It made me smile but it also made me remember a bunch of things. The obvious part is that I remember saying that to my own father, but I also remember the confusion I felt the first time my son said it to me. It is a number of years ago, but I remember wondering how that could be. Why? Because I still thought of my father as the best ever which clearly meant that I couldn’t hold the title.

In the end it is not so much about the title but the feeling. If my children believe that I am the best father ever than I suppose that I am doing something right. More importantly is trying to give them that feeling when they get to be a bit older and are more capable of being critical of me.

All told Father’s Day 2010 was a mighty fine day. Though I wasn’t able to spend it with my father I did speak with him. And as usual it was strange to hear him wish me a happy Father’s Day too. One of these days I’ll get used to that one. Had smores with the kids, listened to people speak English with funny east coast accents and had a great steak for dinner.

Good times and good memories. These are what we hope to fill our days with.

Been thinking about Father’s Day or Fathers’ Day (more on this later) as I sometimes like to think of it. Grand old Jack, all 41 of 41 going on 25 is going to be out of town for Father’s Day. In 41 years I have missed celebrating Father’s Day with my dad just once.

It was six years ago- the year that he had his heart attack, triple bypass and all sorts of other fun in a New Jersey hospital. Six years ago I celebrated the day with my immediate family, some of my sisters and three grandparents.

I remember looking around the room. The dark haired beauty wouldn’t decide to announce her presence to the world for six more weeks, Little Jack really was little and my grandfathers were asking for more details about my dad’s condition.

If you asked me if I spoke with my father that day I would say that I did, but I couldn’t tell you what we spoke of or about. Can’t say whether I said “I love you dad” or something similar. No doubt I told him to keep focusing on getting healthy. He and mom were planning on coming home before the baby was going to be born.

It would be at least a week or two before they would find out that he couldn’t make it home, that he needed a triple bypass. But that Father’s Day I would sit with my grandfather and hear him tell me that he intended to go get his son and bring him home.

I would listen and think about what it meant to be a father, a son and a grandson. I would look at my grandfather, almost 92 and wonder how best to respond. He wasn’t in any shape to go cross country to get my father. It would break my heart to see the pain in his eyes and not know how to fix it.

Because I didn’t lie to him. Didn’t lie and tell him that everything was going to be alright. The first time around I sort of did. Because when I got the call that my father had taken ill and that I needed to get there as soon as possible I wasn’t sure what to say.

I moved quickly because the docs weren’t sure if he was going to make it. Some of you have read about this more than once, but that is because of the impact it had on me. Sitting on a plane for hours without access to a phone/email is hard. It is probably going to become a thing of the past, but six years ago it was far too real.

Hours of flight passed before we landed and I was able to reach the hospital and confirm that he was still there. I remember sitting on the plane willing him to live. I remember sitting in my seat thinking that I was sending him part of me to protect him. I won’t lie and say that I wasn’t scared, because I was.

But a few months later when his condition had improved I was ready to tell my grandfather that it had been very close. He had guessed as much, but he never asked. I think that it was easier for us to maintain the fiction. It wasn’t like he didn’t know, but since he didn’t ask I didn’t have to say. I had already had the experience of telling him about the death of one son, I really didn’t want to have to do it again.

I remember staring at my son. This little boy who knew that mommy had a baby in her tummy, but didn’t quite understand what that meant for him. This little boy who each day was teaching me what it meant to be a father was so very excited to give me a gift for Father’s Day.

He climbed into my lap and hugged me. I stared into his eyes and tried to see what it was that he saw. To him I was superman, capable of anything. All powerful and invincible I would help him build towers and defeat the mysterious enemies who might show up at any time. We were quite the team.

At some point in time I ended up on all fours and he climbed on my back and I found myself fighting back tears. There is a picture of dad and I doing the same thing. But I did what I do, I fought back the tears, stuffed them down and made myself hard. Because I couldn’t afford to let go- too many people relied upon me. Too many people expected me to be their rock.

Later on I would speak with someone special about it all. Later on I would share the fear and worry, but that was not the time.

But enough about the past because now we are in the present and heading off to the future. Because this year I am going to miss celebrating in person with dad. This year the family and some of the ten thousand sisters and I will spend Father’s Day together.

And the gift that I will be most thankful for is my father. He is a good guy, my dad. I feel like I stepped out from beneath his shadow quite some time ago, but I always feel his presence. We still have our moments where we bang heads on things. I don’t think that will ever go away. When I am 130 something and he is well over 150 we’ll still have differing ideas on how to do things. He’ll still find a reason to glare at me and I’ll still ignore it.

But I’ll still remember the time when we almost lost him and the gift of being able to keep him around a little bit longer. And I’ll remember the day where he told me that he used to worry about me but didn’t have the same fear any longer.

And throughout it all I’ll try to do my best to be as good a father to my kids as he was to us.