Dad

My Dad died a couple of weeks ago.

Thanks. I appreciate it.

But see, two things. First, he had been sick for a long time and we were expecting it. In fact, he lived about a year longer than we expected. He was a stubborn SOB.

Second, we were not close. He and my mom divorced when I was a baby and although we visited him fairly often when he lived in the same town (every other weekend on Saturday), he was never really the "dad".

My sisters and brother can all attest that he was a bit of a jerk. OK, more than a bit. He was selfish, had a vicious temper, and was really a pretty bad father and husband. Of his 5 kids and 2 step-kids, 1 refuses to have anything to do with him, 2 (I include myself in this group) only went to see him out of guilt and almost never enjoyed any time spent with him, and the remaining 3 only had a relationship with him because they worked at it. He was not one to call his kids, but would complain if they didn't call him.

That's not to say he wasn't fun when we were younger. He moved to Chicago (from Decatur, IL) when we were kids and we sure did enjoy visiting him there. He introduced us to Chinese food, Greek food, Japanese food. He made sure we went to museums. We went to the zoo, the beach. It was fun to visit him.

But as I got older, I wanted to visit less and less, and didn't like it when I got there. In these last few years I have probably visited him 3 times. He moved to Marion, first of all. Second, he got to be a mean, grouchy old man. I didn't like being there. He was mean to Ruth, his wife, to Andrew, his nephew who moved in with them, to my kids (except Brent, who was his favorite), and it was uncomfortable being there. I went to visit him last February with my brother because I knew he didn't have much more time. He wasn't really there most of the time.

But now that he is gone, I've been thinking of him more than ever before. I've been showing people his peach pit monkeys that he carved. I have some pocket knives of his and some other stuff. I have some watches. There is something about his death that has touched me. I can't really say I'm sad, and I can't really say that his death has changed my perception of him. But my attitude toward him has certainly mellowed. Looking through his stuff gave me a perspective he had never really showed me. It is interesting - it interests me what he was interested in.

I have learned some lessons from his life, I think. I make sure I call my son and don't wait for him to call me. I was active in his life and would regularly go to his parent-teacher sessions. I sat at every court appearance and visited him in jail. I want to be there for him. I want to be someone who he admires and stays in contact with.

And I really really do not want to become a mean, grouchy old man. I want to see the good in all things and in all people. I want to be friendly and generous to my friends and children, and someday, grandchildren. I want people to want to come see me.

So Dad is gone and I'm thinking of him and his life. And I am taking his life as a lesson for mine. Perhaps he had more influence on me that I thought.

So anyway, thanks for your expressions of sympathy. And please excuse me if I'm not actively mourning.