One Short Year
I went over to Dad's after work on Thursday. On this one year anniversary of Dad's death, I wanted to be there when the exact minute plus one year was history. Just as I expected, the driveway was one solid snow drift. The even narrower corridor that remains between Dad's house and Jerome's provides a perfect funnel for all blowing snow in the neighborhood to find its way to Dad's driveway. As I started to shovel, Jerome threw open the side window to his house and offered to plow the driveway. After a little discussion of whether or not I could pay him, I felt I had made a good deal and paid the man for his work, just like Dad would have. That still left the sidewalks to clear but that was a good trade in my opinion. It didn't take long until I was finally inside the house.
The house felt like a furnace compared to temperature outside with its wind chill but I bumped up the thermostat because I knew the feeling would soon remind me that it's still 55 in the house. I took off my boots and coat and went into the living room to just sit. I took the candle from the TV shelf , lit it, and placed it on the green cabinet in front of the bay window. Then I took a seat in the chair just to the right arm of Dad's.
Earlier in the day, Yvonne sent an email that described a Hawk she had seen that day that reminded her of one Lilly saw while standing on Dad's back porch during one summertime visit. This was a sign and I too hoped I would see something or get some sort of alert while sitting there that Dad was nearby. Not one clock in the house is now working but I knew the time had come and gone. I looked at my watch and it was 6:20, now one year and five minutes without Dad; no sign, nothing but silence. It still felt good to be there but then I got to realize that he made his appearance on that day just as he does most days. I see a new car on the road that he would have liked, I say to myself "now Dad would have liked that one". I hear music that I know he would like, I say the exact same thing only this time to a beat. While clearing the snow from the sidewalk, I reflected on the same scenario I have for years each time while shoveling snow.
Apparently at one point in my early adult life, I shoveled the driveway and sidewalk and it didn't meet Dad's expectation or level of satisfaction. I really don't remember the details even while it was fresh because I thought I had done a good job. I was probably in a hurry to go somewhere but anyhow, he let me know that if I wasn't going to do it right, don't do it at all. This shook me but from that point I was always mindful that I had to do a good job at shoveling snow but I didn't know quite where to stop. I must have done it right because I never heard a thing about that job again.
After I had bought my own house, I still came over to shovel snow when I could like all of us did. I was usually met with, "aw, you don't have to do that. Come on back in the house". Not to be hard headed or anything, I continued on knowing that he couldn't and he would appreciate it. Depending on how much snow there was, it might take a bit longer than 10 -15 minutes. In these cases, he would poke his head out the front door and say" come on in, that's good enough" which was usually met with "close the door, you're going to melt the snow". In a half disgusted manner he shut the door and patiently waited for me to come back in, when I was finished, and not until. I was just trying to do it right but at that point he didn't want to see me work too hard or perhaps do work he thought he should be doing. Maybe he saw it as a visit cut short by work. Anyhow, I never quit until I was convinced I had "done it right".
On Thursday we had this same conversation. All the while I was shoveling snow, the scene familiar played in my head. This time there was a slight change. I got to the point where it was good enough then went into the house to spend a few more minutes with him before I had to go.
The house felt like a furnace compared to temperature outside with its wind chill but I bumped up the thermostat because I knew the feeling would soon remind me that it's still 55 in the house. I took off my boots and coat and went into the living room to just sit. I took the candle from the TV shelf , lit it, and placed it on the green cabinet in front of the bay window. Then I took a seat in the chair just to the right arm of Dad's.
Earlier in the day, Yvonne sent an email that described a Hawk she had seen that day that reminded her of one Lilly saw while standing on Dad's back porch during one summertime visit. This was a sign and I too hoped I would see something or get some sort of alert while sitting there that Dad was nearby. Not one clock in the house is now working but I knew the time had come and gone. I looked at my watch and it was 6:20, now one year and five minutes without Dad; no sign, nothing but silence. It still felt good to be there but then I got to realize that he made his appearance on that day just as he does most days. I see a new car on the road that he would have liked, I say to myself "now Dad would have liked that one". I hear music that I know he would like, I say the exact same thing only this time to a beat. While clearing the snow from the sidewalk, I reflected on the same scenario I have for years each time while shoveling snow.
Apparently at one point in my early adult life, I shoveled the driveway and sidewalk and it didn't meet Dad's expectation or level of satisfaction. I really don't remember the details even while it was fresh because I thought I had done a good job. I was probably in a hurry to go somewhere but anyhow, he let me know that if I wasn't going to do it right, don't do it at all. This shook me but from that point I was always mindful that I had to do a good job at shoveling snow but I didn't know quite where to stop. I must have done it right because I never heard a thing about that job again.
After I had bought my own house, I still came over to shovel snow when I could like all of us did. I was usually met with, "aw, you don't have to do that. Come on back in the house". Not to be hard headed or anything, I continued on knowing that he couldn't and he would appreciate it. Depending on how much snow there was, it might take a bit longer than 10 -15 minutes. In these cases, he would poke his head out the front door and say" come on in, that's good enough" which was usually met with "close the door, you're going to melt the snow". In a half disgusted manner he shut the door and patiently waited for me to come back in, when I was finished, and not until. I was just trying to do it right but at that point he didn't want to see me work too hard or perhaps do work he thought he should be doing. Maybe he saw it as a visit cut short by work. Anyhow, I never quit until I was convinced I had "done it right".
On Thursday we had this same conversation. All the while I was shoveling snow, the scene familiar played in my head. This time there was a slight change. I got to the point where it was good enough then went into the house to spend a few more minutes with him before I had to go.
posted by Bill | 8:28 AM
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