Breakfast with dad and Crocodile Rock

My father enters the diner. Elton John’s song Crocodile Rock fills the restaurant. He sees me in a corner booth and starts to make his way toward where I’m seated. He’s careful to let the waitress pass with a tray full of food.

He wears a heavy flannel shirt and jeans. The temperature is supposed to get up to the 60s today, but he still wears flannel. It’s his uniform of choice. When he gets to my table, we give each other a pat on the back and he sits down. I guess this is a good of place as any to mention that I sometimes daydream about my dad. I’ve written about those dreams a couple of times in the past. My dad passed away 21 years ago, but it’s still fascinating for me to think about him. I’m having one of those dreams now.

So how ya doing dad?

I’m horrible about guessing ages, but my dad appears to be a couple of years younger than I am now. He looks to be about 55. He carries himself with a vigor and vitality that was lacking near the end of his life. He looks so good that I ask right away about the heart attack that he had in his early forties. He waves his hand like it’s gnat and not worth our time.

He simply says, “It’s all good. No worries about that now.” Case closed.

I take his lead and tell him that it’s good to see him. When the waitress comes over, she asks what he wants to drink. He points to my coffee and says he’ll have the same. In addition, he tells her that he’ll have two eggs over-easy and a side of bacon. I see that old habits die hard. I can’t remember him ever ordering anything but eggs over-easy for breakfast. I tell the waitress that I’ll have a ham and cheese omelette.

Getting down to business

With the niceties out of the way, he jumps right in. He doesn’t want to waste a second of our time. He asks about my wife and the kids. He’s excited to hear everything that’s going on in their lives. I tell him that our youngest is finishing up his junior year of college. He’s glad to hear this for several reasons. First he died before my youngest was born. He never got to meet him. Secondly, my dad never had the chance to go to college, so he’s glad his grandchildren have better options.

I tell him that my wife and I recently had a weekend getaway. He praises me on my marriage. I tell him that I’m lucky and that it’s all my wife’s doing. He gently teases me by saying, “Don’t you know it.” The joke feels slightly out of place. My dad didn’t joke or laugh a lot in his life. It was like something held him back. I’m sure a big part of that was losing his own father at a young age. He had to fight to survive. He needed to stay alert. He couldn’t let up, he needed to stay on top of things or the next shoe would drop. At the same time, though, the joke feels right. I can see that a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He’s got a breezy air that I don’t remember him having in real life.

I try to ask him about what’s going on in his world. I’m eager to hear about “things on the other side.” I have hundreds of questions. What happens when you die? Is it scary? Peaceful? But, he’s so excited to hear about my family and me that we continue. He asks about my work and even my blog. I walk him through both, including some recent highs and lows.

I’m here for you

The waitress brings our food. We take a break to eat and switch to lighter topics. We talk about sports. We cover both pro and college football. He eats the news up as fast as I can give it. I guess there’s not much talk about the NFL or the Super Bowl in the afterlife.

After a while, out of the blue, he tells me he’s sorry. I put my fork down and take a sip of my coffee. I let the apology digest in my stomach. I’m touched. It hangs in the air. We don’t really dive into the reasons for the apology, but it’s good to hear from him. I search for the right response. I take a few minutes to catch my breath. Finally, I tell him I’m sorry too for not appreciating him.

He says I have nothing to apologize for. We sit and just enjoy the moment.

A peaceful easy feeling

The dreams is simple. I spend the rest of the day thinking about it. I don’t come to any big conclusions. It reminds me of some of the things I miss about my dad. He loved carpentry and woodworking. He also loved “puttering” around on a project. I miss the mischievous grin he would give my mom. I miss too how he loved long conversations. Mostly, I just miss knowing that he was there to ask questions.

When I see my wife later, I ask her what she thinks of my make-believe conversation. She reassures me that it’s okay to miss him. She calls it natural. She reminds me that his birthday will be coming up soon. Of course, it’s natural that I would be missing him.

I make a note on my calendar to stop by a local diner on his birthday. I’m going to put Crocodile Rock on the juke-box and pick a corner booth so that I can watch everyone enter and leave the restaurant. You never know who you might run into there.

Great to see ya, Dad! Long time no see.

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