June 21 was the first day of summer, my sister-in-law’s birthday and 7 months to the day since dad’s death. Memories of dad just keep cropping everywhere. I guess that’s to be expected since I knew him over 50 years, and I still grieve over him.
Somehow I got through father’s day without as much pain. But I started to anticipate father’s day at the start of June. I sent cards out to the fathers in our family and that helped blunt the pain. Fathers and mother’s days are both hard for me since we couldn’t have children, so those days hit that cord too. We got through father’s day since we were so busy cleaning and working on stuff around the house that we didn’t have time to go to church where all the dads would be acknowledged during Mass. Although if we had gone to church, as Father blessed the fathers, dad would be standing in my heart for my love and blessing.
I had some good memories about dad in the last week. Rodgers and I drove to Colorado from DC in a little over 2 days, an aggressive pace. It brought back memories of childhood trips with my family where we drove across the United States and stopped to visit neat parks along the way, and relatives who all spoiled us. How wonderful of mom and dad to take us along on those long trips, and to have the patience to deal with restless, screaming kids in the back seat. We often had picnic lunches by the water and I inevitably ended up in the water much to my parent’s chagrin since we would have to dig out dry clothes for me in an overpacked trunk. I also recall the wobbly picnic tables which dad often balanced. On more than one occasion we abandoned him when bees visited. There he would sit, just barely keeping the picnic table level so our food wouldn’t slide off. He often smashed the attacking bees with a newspaper, and sometimes even with his bare hand, all the time balancing the rocky picnic table.
Rodgers celebrated a birthday recently and in his honor I made apple pie, his favorite. It was also dad’s favorite desert. On those trips across country, we would order lunch and dad would say, “I’ll just have apple pie and a cup of coffee.” When queried about ice cream, he never turned it down, so he was an “a la mode” man. Interestingly enough he usually didn’t order it a la mode, but happily accepted it.
My cousin recently visited us from New England where dad grew up. Dad had a New England accent right until he died although he hadn’t lived there since graduating from law school in the early 1940s. My cousin has a New England accent and Dad’s similar enthusiasm for life and its many events. I love his sense of adventure as he drove his motorcycle all the way from New England to Colorado, some 2000+ miles each way! I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of our cousin, although I am not sure I’m up for such a long ride on a motorcycle. I really don’t like to battle the elements like that! Oh, and did I mention my cousin likes apple pie too, a la mode.
Blog from my Heart 