Sunday, June 19, 2016
Father's Day seems to roll around every year at such a busy time. My boys love their dad and he them. He is the best father. Not perfect, but the best. With both boys away at school, one in Toronto and the other in Saskatoon, we don't see them as often as we'd like but when we do, it's such a wonderful time. Then they go back to their lives and we to ours.
Both boys never got to know their grandpere, we lost him when our eldest was only 3 months old. My dad was not perfect either, he had his struggles, one with booze and the other growing up in an abusive home. His demons did haunt his life. He was ill the last years of his life. We lost him the week before Christmas when my baby was merely 3 months old.
When I became pregnant, my husband was busy with the family business and so my dad would take me to all my appointments. We would go shopping for the new baby and he was so proud when he bought me my state of the art baby carriage. We shopped for baby clothes and all baby things and would come home from the city happy with lots of loot from our shopping spree.
I regret that neither of my boys ever knew him. Actually it hurts my heart that neither grew up being rocked or hugged by him. He so wanted a grand daughter when I was pregnant but when our son was born, he was so excited and loved him so much. Our youngest didn't get that chance as he came two years later. I often wonder what kind of relationship they would have had with him. What kind of trouble they would have gotten into. The birthday and Christmas celebrations we would have had with him. My dad was such an awesome cook.
As the years roll by, the time I think about him the most is when I garden. Dad was an avid gardener and loved big strawberries. He laughed at me the year I was married when I seeded my garden the first day of July. I would never get anything he told me. Well, that year, I had the most fabulous garden ever and then I laughed at him. After that, it was a competition...especially the strawberries. He had a patch of day neutrals but also started a patch of June berries. He lovingly poured all of his gardening skills into them and yet they would not produce. We lost him before he could taste even one June berry and my mom was going to plow them under but decided to give them one more try. All she did was water them and they produced profusely that year. Gallons and gallons of strawberries. My mom and I decided that it was a sign that he was sending us that he was OK in Heaven. And so my heart finally relaxed and I went back to the business of living, but still missing him.
My boys are all grown up now, but every Father's Day after all the commotion dies down and the house is quiet, I think about my dad and how much I miss him. Miss his presence and our escapades together, miss him asking me to join him on another adventure, "Are you ready Hezzy?" , his pet name for me since I was little.
I miss you dad.