I'm taking care of my dad now. He would hate to hear me say that. The aging process has been hell for him and he's fought it with all his strength. He's become more accepting now that he can't win, his sharp, inquiring mind increasingly trapped in a failing body. Arthritis is in control of his choices now. The once active, endlessly exploring person becoming content to explore in his mind through television's depictions of far-off places and people.
I don't mean to be maudlin or make you feel sad for him. He would hate that too. Plus, I wouldn't want you to think of him that way either. He is one of those people I wish every child could have for a Father. Those who had a great dad, would still be blessed to make his acquaintance. I love him dearly, you can tell. He was one of those rare parents who saw and understood the value of empowering his children to leave him and grow beyond him. He wanted us all to be set free when we left his house. He never fed us guilt trips or tried to make us feel beholden to him. He is so proud of our accomplishments. Proud that a man from the farm with an 8th grade education raised educated children who went out and became successful in their work and with their families.
He was never one to lecture or pontificate. But he was one for conversation and discussion. I was astonished to find as an adolescent that other kid's parents did not ask them what they thought about world events or spiritual things. It was a regular occurance at my house. I have strong memories of discussing Watergate and astronauts on the moon with my dad, as well as talking about the latest thing he'd read in his Bible. I was astonished too that they were not included in family discussions, not trusted to learn to handle money or jobs. I began to see at that early age that I had been incredibly gifted.
I was launched into life by my dad's example. He fiercely followed his gut instincts. He has not allowed conventional wisdom or stilted tradition to dictate his decisions. He was unafraid to pray and strike out in the direction he felt was revealed. He'd swim upstream if he had to. Time has proven his decisions correct to his many doubters, though it may have had unintended consequences. I'm his youngest and when in my first year of marriage, I moved halfway across the country, I saw it turn his face gray with worry. But he never said anything negative. Just, "If that's what you think you're supposed to do..." He visited my growing family often and was an enthusiastic supporter of our putting roots in a new place. He winters with me now in the warmth and all he ever says is, "I knew you'd do fine."
Lately, I've talked him into trying electric scooters and letting me take him places in a wheelchair. I think he's been surprised that he feels empowered by them instead of diminished. Surprised that using the assistance is allowing him to continue exploring life and learning instead of making him feel dependant. I hope so. It's hard on me to see him controlled by aging joints and muscles while his mind is still strong. Hard on him too.
I thought he'd live forever. In some ways, the gradual slowdown has been a blessing. It's opened my eyes that the end will come sooner rather than later, so I'm thinking of things I want to be sure to say to him while he's still here. He's been awkward in expressing his emotions, so for the last several years, I've been making a point of always saying "I love you" at the end of every phone call, hugging and kissing him at every parting. At first, this caused consternation on his part. Patting me on the shoulder, saying "Me too" and "Same here" on the phone. Gradually it has grown on him. Last week he volunteered, "I love you" first!
I dread our final parting. So I'm determined to have no regrets, he's not one for much sentiment but he's given me so many gifts. The life example, the faith in me, the faith in God, the adult friendship. I will honor him the very best way I can: by passing his example to my children, modeling for them as he did for me. Believing in them and launching them off to fulfill their life's purpose. That's what he would want.
