Twenty-three years ago today my father died. He died very young (though at the time I didn't realize just how young). It's always a sad day for me and one of contemplation and reflection.
I remember him telling me that a day never went by that he didn't think of his own father - a man who died before I was born, but who I knew was a teacher, and not just any ordinary teacher, but the best teacher ever. If only he were here, he would tell me, you wouldn't have a worry in maths (he was Irish). I believed him and cursed my luck (well, as much as anyone in Grade 4 curses) that my grandfather wasn't around to teach me. Instead, I was stuck with my father who worked with me night after night. Admittedly, he was a wonderful doctor and a gifted diagnostician, but we both knew (he would always be the first to say this) that patience wasn't his middle name. However, time passed and when the math marks were posted, I had the highest mark in Grade 4. My teacher couldn't believe it, I couldn't believe it and my father was as pleased as I have ever seen him.
Years later, this maths incident became the standard for me. Whenever I needed guidance, whenever I needed a pep talk, whenever I needed a push, a shove - okay a kick - my father would remind me of that accomplishment so many years earlier. See what you can do when you set your mind to it! he would say so often that it still resonates in my head.
I wish he were here. I wish I had listened better to his stories, I wish I could have asked him questions that I have only thought of as an adult - as a mature adult. I can still hear his laugh. I can more fully appreciate his sense of humour, his sadness, his complexity, his demons, and his love.
2 comments:
My dad died in the spring of 2001 when he was 79. Not a day passes when I don't wish he was here. I miss him; his sense of humour, his wisdom and the pure sense of love I felt from him. I can relate to what you are saying.
The Yahrzeit for my Dad is February 10. Its been 15 years since my Dad died but I see him everyday. For some reason I stopped hearing him a few years ago but until then I could hear his voice and see his face. He was quiet, determined and, as my mother says, a "fine man"
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