Five minutes with dad

I’ve been thinking about my dad a lot lately. I wrote about him in Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door, how he made an appearance in a recent dream that I had where I got a chance to get the VIP treatment and visit heaven for a day. I’ve been thinking about him at other times too. We didn’t always get along — he could be quick to anger and could be demanding — but he’s been gone now for more than 19 years, and I’ve been thinking a lot about the things I would talk with him about over coffee or a meal.

I would love: 

–To talk with him about some of the projects my wife and I have planned for our house. He worked easily with his hands. He would know the best way to redo our bathroom or to update the windows or siding on our house. It came naturally to him, where I struggle to make sense of it. I picked up some that knowledge as a kid working with him, but unfortunately most of it went over my head.

–To talk about my kids. He loved his grandchildren. He was a tough father, but he was an outstanding grandfather. He loved to have them on his lap or if he was feeling well, to get on the floor with them. He would love to hear how they’re doing and the dreams they’ve set for themselves. He would love to hear about their accomplishments. He would be so proud of them. He would be even prouder of the strength of their character.

–To talk about how similar the kids are to him. I would probably do more of the talking here. He would be modest and say no, but I would love to tell him about how they’re quick with their mind and hands, just like him. He never had the time or money to go college. He would love to hear how they’re making something of their lives. I would give him examples of how they’ve taken after bits of each of their grandparents.

–To talk about everyday things, everything from the Pittsburgh Pirates, with a record of 20-15, jumping out to first place and a strong early start, to the price of gas, or the best route to drive cross-country from Pennsylvania to California. He didn’t always gets my passion for writing or even my sarcasm and humor, but he’d want to know that I’m still at it and would be interested in my blog. I’m sure he’d have a few questions of his own.

Life doesn’t work that way. Unfortunately, people die and time marches on, but I know someday I’ll have a chance to talk with my dad again. When I do, I’ll have my notes ready.

Image by Archie Binamira via Pexels.