First, let me apologize for the extended absence. Over the winter, we lost our cat, Grandmother and Father. Needless to say, the grieving process has been lengthy and difficult, and finding a clear headspace to write has been in short supply. Full disclosure – I have absolutely no ability to process all of this yet. It is a strange place to be in, and I expect that there are many rough days still ahead.
In particular, I wanted to write about the loss and memory of my Dad. I suppose our journey together was a little unique in that on top of being my Dad, we had the rare opportunity to work together for over 20 years as colleagues, partners, friends. This allowed me an insight into him as a person well beyond what I may have only known being his son.
I wanted to write specifically about my Dad’s legacy. This was a man who quietly and tirelessly tried to help those around him. Being a “Gen X” person myself, I was never told outright about the many lessons in life, but instead I got to witness the examples being set. Now in my 50’s, I can still appreciate how much more valuable these lessons were, and that I can still retain them after all this time. He was never a guy to advertise or “virtue signal” what he was doing, but instead would put all of his energy into making good things happen without fanfare. Even after 31 years working for Bell, 29 years with his own trucking company, and several years working daily with the Wasaga Beach Ministerial foodbank, he never once stopped trying to help. I had seen throughout my life and especially when I saw him in a work environment, just how well respected he was with his peers. Always helping people, always genuine in his love for those around him.
On a personal note: I will never forget the last time my Dad phoned me. This was well into the decline of his health, and he was in hospice care. He no longer had the ability to dial the phone on his own, so the nurses had made this call for him. He was crying. He was upset that he hadn’t done enough charitable work in his life, and he was extremely upset that there were people out in the cold with nowhere to go. After so many years of being someone I enjoyed countless phone calls with, this one was very tough. We had always had a laugh, cured all of the world’s problems, and connected in a meaningful way whenever we needed to reach out. Somehow it was clear that this was the last call. Even in the next couple of hospice visits, he was no longer able to know that we were there for him.
As life marches closer to the clearing at the end of the path, it has really made me turn a brutal and sincere eye inward. What do I want to leave behind? What can I do in this random and limited time here? How can I correct previous transgressions, and how can I inspire people in my world? Can I be the man my Dad was to my own wife and son? He left some gigantic boots to fill, and I may never reach that summit. If I have learned anything at all, it’s that the little things are what build the biggest picture. Anything from a random act of kindness, to walking a life-changing journey with someone who is hurting can be the world to someone. Be charitable. Make time for people. Don’t do something kind with the condition of reciprocity.
Above all else, remember that we only have so much time. Call those you care about. Don’t feed into conflicts. Time is precious. I am aware of how much more time I couldn’t have with my Dad. I can’t call him every time I feel like a chat. I simply cannot call him anymore.
