Father's Day..Memories and all the good stuff

Father's Day.  Wow, how its meaning has changed for me.

My mom told me when I turned 50, "Welcome to the 10 worst years of your life."

"How so Mom?"

"Well, your friends parents will die, your friends will die, your friends will get sick, your friends will divorce, kids will screw and when you laugh, you will pee your pants."

"Well, I have been peeing my pants for years so bring it on."

I had no idea.

My sperm donor dad left when my brother and I were in our 20's.  After all the hard stuff, he bolted.  For a chick the same age as my younger brother.  After 26 years of marriage, he asked my mom for a divorce on their anniversary.  Took me years.  Years to get over the hurt and anger.  And no, I haven't heard from him in about 16 years.

And in the last few weeks, since mother's day, five of my girl friends have buried their dads, after sitting at their bedsides.  Roll reversal.  The worst kind of roll reversal.  They became the caretakers.

And typically after all the care taking comes the recovery and the grief.  And perhaps anger.

This past Monday, my sweet sister-in-law and her ex-husband learned that their 20 year-old-son had been killed.  They will hold his service tomorrow.  Today is W.'s first Father's Day without his son.

And despite all the  sadness, there are happy memories.

It was the sperm donor dad who taught me to "rough house", love gardening, appreciate fall, nut gathering, elderberry picking, the outdoors and sports.  I knew what a balk in baseball was in first grade and I can spy a deer from 1000 yards.  My dad also taught me that a way to a man's heart is through a freshly baked sweet good.

And I am fortunate enough that I remember the sperm donor dad as a young man.

I am blessed enough that I have a "real" dad.  The dad that was there for the marriages, children, moves, adult stuff.  The real stuff.

My only hope for today is that people remember the "good stuff" about their dads. 

I once heard a kid complaining that his dad was "never at his games."  Okay, the dad only missed the Saturday games.  He owned a business and was opened on Saturdays.  It was those Saturdays that paid for the $200 bats and baseball camp but kids never get that situation.

I want my friends to remember the good times.  The "rough housing, the father/daughter dances, the Friday nights when he came home with a bag of Lay's potato chips and ice cold Cokes in the bottle and the time he helped you ride a bike."

When I think of my grandfather, I don't think of him sick in a hospital bed, I think of him picking me up on Friday's from kindergarten and stopping at the Tastee Freeze in Delmont.  He always got a hot fudge sundae and I got a chocolate cone dipped in chocolate. 

I was allergic to milk and chocolate at the time and he always told me, "if you tell your mother, we are both in trouble."  To this day, that is the only thing I order at a Tastee Freeze.

I don't want my friend to remember their dads sick in bed.  I want them to remember them large as life.  Muscular and handsome.  Firm and kind.  Funny and serious. Proud and gentle.

I want everyone to have happy memories of their dad.  I want my kids to have happy memories of their dad as well.

I want my ex-brother-in-law to remember J. with endless energy, quick wit, devilish smile and a zest for life, the good things.

Just happiness.  Happy memories, happy times. 

Happy Father's day.