FATHER’S DAY 2022

I woke up, got my coffee, and went out onto the back patio to listen to the birdsong, watch the birds on the feeder, and listen to some of my podcasts.  My oldest daughter Jessica made a breakfast of pancakes and bacon.  My youngest, Carole, who is a bit estranged from me, texted me Happy Father’s Day, and told me she loved me.

Other than that, I spent the day on the back patio reading, listening to my podcasts then music, enjoying the dry, mild summer air, and enjoying some peace.

I grilled some burgers, and my son-in-law Christian and Jessica joined us for a nice, quiet dinner. The two demon-spawn were with their abuelito José, so Christian was enjoying some quiet time.  All in all, a quiet day. Robin called her father to wish him a Happy Father’s Day, and it came crashing down on me.  I couldn’t call my dad.

PAPAW

My father passed away on December 17, 2018, after a mercifully short battle with pulmonary fibrosis. To my children and grandchildren, he was Papaw.  To me, he was just Paw.  He had a way of speaking that was mindful of a down-to-home hillbilly, which masked his intelligence and served to disarm a lot of people and put them at ease.  He and I shared a love for Louis L’Amour books, so it just seemed natural to call him Paw.  It would irritate Robin when he and I would carry on a whole conversation like we were extras in Beverly Hillbillies, with a lot of “I reckon so” and “y’all” or “I ain’t orta ought to…” I’m sure Robin felt IQ points being sucked out of her as she heard this, but it was our way of sharing a small piece of the world between us.

I was named after him, and I can’t remember a time when I ever resented that.  As I got older, I realized that I was very much like him, and I was perfectly all right with that.  I admired him, as a father and as a man, and I always hoped that he was proud of the man I’d become.

Life does what life does, and he was called to Heaven.  Too soon for me, but I didn’t get a say. A year later, I lost my mother on January 2, 2020.  I became an orphan at 56.  Cue the movie Annie.  Now I can be the plucky little kid looking for a Daddy Warbucks.  Nah, I’ve got Robin, and she is much better looking than Daddy Warbucks.  I was always pleased to know that Maw and Paw loved Robin, verifying that at least in that respect, I done good.

PARENTS

I take solace in this; my life has gone in much the way that I think God intended families to be.  Maw and Paw were devoted to each other for over 50 years.  They were the stable core for our family, raising three children.  Sure, there were bumps along the way.  It’s life, and that’s what happens.  So, I was raised in a stable home, had parents who loved me and whom I loved and respected in turn. My parents passed before me or my siblings.  The way it should be, at least in this broken world.

My parents were able to see their children grow to be successful adults, with children of their own.  We made trips to see them.  They got to spend time with their grandchildren, and then their great grandchildren.  I was on a business trip when my second grandchild was born.  I returned maybe a month and a half before Paw died, and we were able to get a picture of 3 generations of Steves.

LEGACY

One thing my parents did teach me, and I hope I’ve passed this along to my children: it’s not the mistakes we make that define us, it’s what we do about them that defines who we are as a person.

I remember a time nearly 20 years ago.  Robin and I were separated, and I was talking with Paw on the phone.  He was telling me what I needed to do to fix it.  It involved doing something I didn’t want to do, which was take responsibility for my actions, and I told him, “Paw, it’s not that simple!” Without hesitation he replied, “Yes, son, it really is that simple.  I didn’t say it would be easy.”  

You know, he was absolutely correct.  I made the simple decision.  It wasn’t easy, but Robin and I are a week away from celebrating our 33^rd anniversary.  He had a way of cutting through the crap the world would throw at him and break it down to simple, home-spun wisdom.  I miss that in my life, and I miss him.  I am glad Robin got to call her father.  I can’t help but wish I was able to talk to mine.

That brings to mind something else he told me, once. “Dead is dead.  It ain’t for the living to dwell on, cause we cain’t do nothin about it.  Living’s for the living, so I reckon we should focus on that.”

I reckon so.