Father's Day
Coming up, this Sunday.......I think about my Dad alot, all the time, but things like this make me think in more detail about what he was to me. I am finding it very interesting as the rest of the family and I talk about him, how different a person he was to each of them than he was to me. It has made me realize that I , too, am probably a different person to everyone in my life, and it makes me very curious to know how each person in my life might describe me.
I know I am different in big ways to each of my children, because I was in very different places in my life when each of them was born. Almost everything about my life was VERY different, except, ironically, both of their fathers were abusive to me. One, because he was a baby with too many responsibilities, the other was, and is, mentally ill, but functional enough in the world to not be put away. They were both physically abusive, but the worst of the two was the one who was more psychologically abusive, he left many more scars, changed me in ways that I'm sure, I'm not even aware of. I consider myself a reasonably intelligent person, in some things above average, but a recent discussion with my brother revealed,we both believe that being intelligent doesn't always mean you are smart. I will blog about this at some later time, mostly for those people, who, when they learn about someone who is living in an abusive situation will have answers to "why doesn't she just leave?".
Fortunately, my Dad was not the kind of person who would whop on his kids. I don't know how many times he may have lain a hand on my brother, but I only remember a couple of times he spanked me. The last time, we both had tears in our eyes when he did it. I had stood up for something I believed in, but because he had already told me he was going to do it, he had to stick to his word. I KNOW, tho, that when he had heard me out, he really didn't want to anymore.
My Mom had the dirty job of discipline, most of the time. Daddy was raised with the idea that the kids are the woman's job, and he came to regret that belief at a later time, and to his credit, admitted it. But, he didn't ignore us. He was around when my then teenage brother was working on his cars with his friends. He didn't take the work out of their hands, he was just there should they need some advice or help. They learned what they needed to know to fix their cars instead of having to stand back and watch "how a pro does it". I hung out in the garage with him for hours on end. We may not have said ten words to each other during those times, but I was close to him, knew he was close to me, and NEVER felt like he would rather I would go back in the house. I would be his "tool hander" when he was working on cars, airplanes, lawnmowers, and because of this, I know some (very) basic mechanics, and at least know what tools are what and when they are used. He let me play on the Gravely tractor for hours, let me till the garden, mow the lawn, haul stuff in the wagon when I was probably way too small to be doing such things.In later years I got compliments on my painting skills when I was in the Navy, and I knew even then it was because he had taught me how to do it properly. My co-workers now tell people, "give it to Mommanurse, if she can't fix it, it will have to go back to Biomed" Thank you, Daddy, I think. My blood pressure machine's tubes and wires are always curled properly and not all tangled up, because I am as anal about that as Daddy. My patients get tired of watching me untangle things, I think they would rather I just get their vitals, and get out of their hair.
He didn't suffer fools gladly, and nowdays,I say in my Dad's honor,"Dadblamed idiots" when I see somebody who is doing or thinking a foolish thing. If you are an idiot, that is one thing, if you are a Dadblamed idiot, there is just no hope for you.
There are so many things he gave me, but you have heard me speak before of a "safe place to be." He was the first, and the most important to give me a safe place to be. My Daddy "can do anything", and when I was with him, he didn't lecture me, he didn't probe me for info about where I had been or who I had been with. He was just WITH me. While that was not really fair to my Mom, it was wonderful to have. I was just ok, exactly the way I was. Much of my environment was of a judgemental nature. I was the kind of kid who took much of that to heart, so I really needed to have somebody that I could go to and feel like I was perfectly alright, just the way I was. I only heard him say a curseword twice in my life, once was in a joke, the other time was when I had broken my arm, and he felt I was not getting proper care. The people he said it to have no idea the importance of that curseword.... a shame, really. They didn't understand that the next thing on the agenda was probably a punch in the nose.
He didn't say the words often when we were kids, but we knew he loved us. At least I did. I was his girl, as most girls are, but I think I also became his friend.
All of the men in my life were measured by his yardstick, and came up wanting, in many ways. The rooster is very like him, in a lot of ways, and mostly the important ones.
Even tho we only saw each other a couple of times a year for many years, I never realized that when he was gone how I would miss him so terribly. Much of my safety is gone, and no one can replace that, because it came from a superhuman, in this little girl's eyes. He tried his best to teach us how to live, and very definitely taught us how to die...in God's arms, and with minimal complaint, with an appreciation for all the good things we've had in our lives. I know I will never meet the mark.
I miss him terribly, but, there are times when I feel his arms around me, saying the things I need to hear, the things he was learning to say when he learned his time was short. I ask him to meet my dying patients in case they have no one to help them adjust, and to take them on an airplane ride......he has the keys to every one ever made, and the keys to every that will ever be made, in his heaven.
On this Father's day, I will be watching my husband continue to cement his once broken relationship with his son. I will thank God for it, and be thankful that I had the one I had. I do, and will continue to tell people about him, until we meet again. And while I wish I could see him soon, I'm not ready to leave my peeps here to do it. I know it's not my time, and my Daddy will wait for us.
Happy Father's Day, Daddy, you're one of the great ones.
I know I am different in big ways to each of my children, because I was in very different places in my life when each of them was born. Almost everything about my life was VERY different, except, ironically, both of their fathers were abusive to me. One, because he was a baby with too many responsibilities, the other was, and is, mentally ill, but functional enough in the world to not be put away. They were both physically abusive, but the worst of the two was the one who was more psychologically abusive, he left many more scars, changed me in ways that I'm sure, I'm not even aware of. I consider myself a reasonably intelligent person, in some things above average, but a recent discussion with my brother revealed,we both believe that being intelligent doesn't always mean you are smart. I will blog about this at some later time, mostly for those people, who, when they learn about someone who is living in an abusive situation will have answers to "why doesn't she just leave?".
Fortunately, my Dad was not the kind of person who would whop on his kids. I don't know how many times he may have lain a hand on my brother, but I only remember a couple of times he spanked me. The last time, we both had tears in our eyes when he did it. I had stood up for something I believed in, but because he had already told me he was going to do it, he had to stick to his word. I KNOW, tho, that when he had heard me out, he really didn't want to anymore.
My Mom had the dirty job of discipline, most of the time. Daddy was raised with the idea that the kids are the woman's job, and he came to regret that belief at a later time, and to his credit, admitted it. But, he didn't ignore us. He was around when my then teenage brother was working on his cars with his friends. He didn't take the work out of their hands, he was just there should they need some advice or help. They learned what they needed to know to fix their cars instead of having to stand back and watch "how a pro does it". I hung out in the garage with him for hours on end. We may not have said ten words to each other during those times, but I was close to him, knew he was close to me, and NEVER felt like he would rather I would go back in the house. I would be his "tool hander" when he was working on cars, airplanes, lawnmowers, and because of this, I know some (very) basic mechanics, and at least know what tools are what and when they are used. He let me play on the Gravely tractor for hours, let me till the garden, mow the lawn, haul stuff in the wagon when I was probably way too small to be doing such things.In later years I got compliments on my painting skills when I was in the Navy, and I knew even then it was because he had taught me how to do it properly. My co-workers now tell people, "give it to Mommanurse, if she can't fix it, it will have to go back to Biomed" Thank you, Daddy, I think. My blood pressure machine's tubes and wires are always curled properly and not all tangled up, because I am as anal about that as Daddy. My patients get tired of watching me untangle things, I think they would rather I just get their vitals, and get out of their hair.
He didn't suffer fools gladly, and nowdays,I say in my Dad's honor,"Dadblamed idiots" when I see somebody who is doing or thinking a foolish thing. If you are an idiot, that is one thing, if you are a Dadblamed idiot, there is just no hope for you.
There are so many things he gave me, but you have heard me speak before of a "safe place to be." He was the first, and the most important to give me a safe place to be. My Daddy "can do anything", and when I was with him, he didn't lecture me, he didn't probe me for info about where I had been or who I had been with. He was just WITH me. While that was not really fair to my Mom, it was wonderful to have. I was just ok, exactly the way I was. Much of my environment was of a judgemental nature. I was the kind of kid who took much of that to heart, so I really needed to have somebody that I could go to and feel like I was perfectly alright, just the way I was. I only heard him say a curseword twice in my life, once was in a joke, the other time was when I had broken my arm, and he felt I was not getting proper care. The people he said it to have no idea the importance of that curseword.... a shame, really. They didn't understand that the next thing on the agenda was probably a punch in the nose.
He didn't say the words often when we were kids, but we knew he loved us. At least I did. I was his girl, as most girls are, but I think I also became his friend.
All of the men in my life were measured by his yardstick, and came up wanting, in many ways. The rooster is very like him, in a lot of ways, and mostly the important ones.
Even tho we only saw each other a couple of times a year for many years, I never realized that when he was gone how I would miss him so terribly. Much of my safety is gone, and no one can replace that, because it came from a superhuman, in this little girl's eyes. He tried his best to teach us how to live, and very definitely taught us how to die...in God's arms, and with minimal complaint, with an appreciation for all the good things we've had in our lives. I know I will never meet the mark.
I miss him terribly, but, there are times when I feel his arms around me, saying the things I need to hear, the things he was learning to say when he learned his time was short. I ask him to meet my dying patients in case they have no one to help them adjust, and to take them on an airplane ride......he has the keys to every one ever made, and the keys to every that will ever be made, in his heaven.
On this Father's day, I will be watching my husband continue to cement his once broken relationship with his son. I will thank God for it, and be thankful that I had the one I had. I do, and will continue to tell people about him, until we meet again. And while I wish I could see him soon, I'm not ready to leave my peeps here to do it. I know it's not my time, and my Daddy will wait for us.
Happy Father's Day, Daddy, you're one of the great ones.
posted by Mommanurse at 10:34 PM
1 Comments:
He was just as you say, quiet, strong and a gentleman as well as a gentle man. It was my pleasure to know him. I think of him fondly.
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