Remembered

We are sitting on the deck enjoying a beer as the sun sets into the Olympics vibrating vibrant gold streaks over the calm water. The day is almost done with the final task being one of relaxation, recovery and review. I am feeling weak again with chest pain, stiff and tired legs, blurred vision. Worse is my self talk where rumors of MS, diabetes or something in the ‘other’ category circulates like a crossfire hurricane. This has to stop. Like now.

Surprisingly, my deck mate says that she has been thinking about me and follows with a simple question, ‘how are you doing since your Dad died?’

After thanking her for the question and its corresponding compassion, I gather my pathetic random thoughts to formulate an honest reply. She deserves as much. ‘I’m not sure, I think OK, but with everything else competing for my attention and action, I could be adequately accepting the reality that both my parents are gone or I could be in utter denial and without the required courage necessary to address the situation.’

She says she understands and that her relationship with her Father is similar. Although her’s is still kicking, as they say.

I continue, ‘I tried to add something to his life but he was tough. Really the only things we had in common, outside of DNA and the family, was football and beer. He didn’t read, go to movies, travel or have hobbies other than golf. He wasn’t a great conversationalist and his point of view was all Fox News, which of course, was a river the width of the Mississippi between us.’ 

‘But he was there’ I continued, ‘I remember one trip to the ER, I think it was Thanksgiving of 2014, and I asked him if he could please drive me there, which he did, and as I was dealing with the yet to be diagnosed atrial fibrillation at one point I was feeling so bad I said as I rose from the examining table simply to keep moving, that I didn’t think I was going to make it.’

‘I put one arm around his shoulder to steady myself and I felt his strength and stability. He was standing there anchoring me to this world like Superman. Something clicked, maybe my heart, and I sat back down on the table waiting for the ER Doc to return with wherever results they we testing for. But already I was better, calmer, more present. Amazing what blood flow to brain will do. But it was more, as if the honesty of our momentary bonding was exactly the right drug in the proper dose needed to fend-off the demons about to celebrate another victory.’

‘Wow.’

‘Yeah, I suppose that will always be one of the things I remember about him.’

‘Well, that’s a good one. My memories won’t be anywhere near that, my Dad was mean.’

As the sun continues to shiver streaks of bronze and cinnamon across the passage I share a deep inner fear.

‘I wonder how I will be remembered.’