Happy Father's Day, Dad.
It's been over two years since you left this plane. You were run down, exhausted, in pain, frustrated, and truly at times, a pain in the side to someone. For nearly a decade, any little thing could set you off. I prayed when I visited that you had not just turned off Fox News to open the door.
You argued with me. You yelled at the world. You huffed. You could be gruff. You were miserable. And, frankly, you made others miserable.
Yet, with all of that negative energy, that frustration at the world, the demands that those around you make better decisions, your expectation that others consider doing things the right way which was your way, and that they believe the things you believe, I still appreciate, love and miss you.
I acknowledge the terrible cost you paid the last decade of your life as you struggled to continue to work, to manage your physical pain, while past medical issues likely impacted every aspect of your life. I could see regret written on your face every visit. I could see your eyes evaluating everything and everyone as they came into the room. While we may have left in anger and frustration from endless conversations surrounding a host of divisive issues, ultimately your children would return.
My coming out process caused the family 5 years of horrendous holiday events, assuring the avoidance of personal revelations by other family members for decades. To this day, emotionally, I look forward to holiday events with family by visualizing robing in medieval armor, sword, breastplate, and helm, with the weight of it increasing as the event approaches.
Which got me to thinking. Why? Why as adults would we as children return to see you? I thought for years that the reason I was going home wasn't to see you, but to see Mom. You were the mean one. She was the wonderful one. I was there to check in and make sure Mom was okay. Who cares about you, mean, hurtful, rightwinger, always asking about our Walk with the Lord. Always prying, always analyzing, always demanding, always making statements, always starting arguments, always bringing up debates which I could counter, could provide information to support my thinking, to substantiate my position, data and information and perspective that you clearly did not find approving throughout many conversations. To the disappointment and frustration of everyone in our family. In fact, you and I destroyed more holiday events through debate and argument than I care to ever acknowledge.
See, for that all the negativity of the last decade (and more) before your passing, the 35 years before that were instrumental to who I am. I could not have managed the nearly 3 years, much less much of the last 45 years without your instruction, focus, debate, demands, opinions, and strong concern and devotion for others. I cannot imagine someone more relentless than you. I cannot imagine someone for focused on perfectionism than you. I cannot imagine someone more tied up in knots about issues, more concerned about others, more willing to help, more willing to listen, more willing to find solutions, more willing to fight, more willing to debate, more willing to invite others, more willing to introduce, more willing. Except maybe me.
You shared your love of animals. I will always proudly be able to say that my first pet was a horse. Who can say that in this decade? Cindy will always love her dogs. And, Marc? Well, let's just say is there are animals that love to reach in and get Marc's attention. Each of us has an animal we hate. Cindy hates spiders. For Marc I think its snakes. For me, trust me, those damn stinking gross bugs. And, we learned to antagonize the other with that weakness. Each of us has a particular squeal that the other enjoys.
You developed our competitive spirit while teaching us values and key characteristics. You made us choose pursuits and sports. We did not have a choice about whether we would participate in a sport, we were given a choice about which sport. You wanted to help us understand the concept of goal development, discipline, focus, and competition. You wanted us to win but also how to learn that we might lose. You helped us learn team development but also insisted that we bring our very individual best. We not only listened to coaches, we learned from you. And, during competitions, it was your voice we could hear over any others, and so could our friends. Fortunate for us, we chose wisely. We swam, (Go La Grande Swin Club!) like you did. Though Cindy was more explorative with soccer, softball, football, and the list continues.
The same with music. Your tenor voice, Mom's alto, Mom's piano were staples in the house, not to mention the church. You suffered through me learning violin, Marc on the flute, and we all were tormented by Cindy on trumpet. Thank God drums were not a choice. Yet, ultimately, you guided us to perform. Whether through our voices or through instruments. Yet, our performance was a result of practice, improvement, and guidance. Values we each teach others today.
You wanted us to learn what hard work meant. We had chores we hated, chores we loathed, and chores we suffered. Thats why they are chores. From shovelling manure to mowing grass to dusting and vacuuming, you and Mom provided lists and we did as little as we could to be cited as acceptable.
You tried to excite us by working on your car's engine. Lets say that may have been your one failure. I can hear the engine and feel the road. But, the Car "FORCE" will never be with me.
Yet, perhaps, the things that drove us more insane was your infernal question "How is Your Walk with the Lord?" Your relentless focus on our holiness trek would make the Pope proud and we are not even Catholic. You did not care about whether we attended Church every Sunday. That would be too easy. We learned every book, every verse, every story, its intent, its development, its principles and values. Rules you said were basics for beginners. Principles were where we lived in our house. Intent and purpose were more important that success or failure. You were beyond relentless. Why? Because you did not provide rules that were equal. You provided rules that were fair. Individual rules for each individual within your home. If I got a C (I got one once), I got a car ride for an hour in the pontiac. It was like the "bedroom talk" but on wheels at 50 miles an hour with no escape, not even through a window! Yet, Cindy could skate at a C and celebrations began.
So what if that concept we learned was that we were all valuable? Does it really matter that it taught us to expect different levels of competence and skill in different areas from different people? Does it really matter that it taught us not to judge others based on their knowledge and skill set? Geez, dad, an hour in the car with you talking about your expectations!
You competed with us. You insisted you would always be bigger than us. Older than us. You intimated wiser than us. You were our first line doctor, our disciplinarian, our consultant, our encourager, the dreamer, the designer, the solver, the developer, the planner, the one person that could hug us and everything would be better. You dared us to stand up to you and ultimately I did. Several times. Not once did it go well for either of us. The few times it was in familial view it was never forgotten. And, each time it took Mom to intervene.
Only later, did I understand the power of Her Voice for you. Her voice alone could turn you from anything. Her squeal, her scream, her call. It had absolute authority and absolute impact on you. From anywhere, under any circumstance, if the voice communicated urgency, immediacy was your motivator. And, likewise, when you were in ICU, her hand lowered your blood pressure, even while you were in a coma. Little did I know how rare that was until the nurse shared that tidbit.
See Dad, for all of the terrible things you were. Disciplinarian. Sinner. Debater. Hurtful. Unreasonable. Extremist. Insistent. Particular. Perfectionist. Frustrated. Passionate. Angry. Afraid. Terrible at Sales. Terrible. Forceful. Abusive at times, Manipulator, Joker, Anti-gay, Punster, Promise Breaker. Intimidator, Dreamer. Yet, you were more often the Healer, Farmer, Coach, Teacher, Encourager, Theologian, Pastor, Principled, Fairness Focused, Holiness Seeker, Forgiver, Advocate, Defender, Dream with Us, Friend and Father.
In spite or because of you, regularly, I am forced to call mom. Several times, actually, I have called mom to complain. I have called to confess that situations arise regularly which require me to stop and get angry with you. I get frustrated with you. I get so made that you aren't here to yell at you. Simply, because in the course of the day when something occurs, you pop in. I haven't decided if its a memory tape you installed. Whether you have joined the "committee" in my head. Or you simply brainwashed portions of my brain.
At the end of the day, I realize in these situations that occur, or conversations in which I engage, I say something only you would say. I will do something only you would do. I will take on something only you would. Fight someone only you would fight. Help someone only you would help. Worry about someone who only you would find concerning. Consider or be frustrated about a process or need and how to resolve it. And, I will then laugh, curse, and be frustrated once more that no matter how much conflicting we were, no matter the holidays we ruined, you had a purpose. And, its at that moment, I want to stomp my feet in frustration at your duplicative success.
There are days that I admit, you might win. I am many of those things I have mentioned here about you. We are both dreamers. We are definitely competitive. We are certainly focused. We care deeply for others. We serve organizations and/or help others in need individually and privately. We worry and care for widows. We give of our selves. We strive for perfection. We lead, but only as servants. We serve others, especially those in need. We privately converse with God, though I may never darken the door of a Church except with Mom. We get angry at stupidity and we do not suffer fools willingly. Admittedly, in fact, I believe we may be some of the most opinionated people we know!
So from Eldest Son to successful Father. Happy Father's Day, Dad. I hope know, and I hope you knew before you left us, that you helped create some fantastic kids, with a fantastic wife. And, while we do not miss you being in pain. We don't miss you ranting and raving (possibly because I can do it for you), We do miss you.
Your Son,
Eric
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