Showing posts with label my dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my dad. Show all posts
January 24, 2009
April 24, 2008
The Rock
I was talking to a friend of mine at work today. She brought in the most beautiful framed print of two hand prints, touching each other, with dried flowers all around, in a gorgeous mahogany frame. Just too look at it was wonderful. When she began to explain what it was, I almost started crying.
The two hand prints were of her and her sister, who died tragically a few years ago in a car accident. The dried flowers were from her sister's funeral, and the frame, her husband made for her. It was absolutely astounding, because not only was it beautiful, it wasn't sorrowful looking. Just a nice reminder for her of her sister.
Then, I began thinking about my rock. I have this small rock I keep in my car, in a tin from "dragon gum". It's just a plain old gray beach rock. Very smooth, very touchable. My rock, I've carried with with me for about 7 years now. It stays with me in my car for luck.
You see, my rock, is a memento of a precious trip I took with my dad, and as it turns out, it was the last trip we were able to take together.
When I lived in San Francisco, my dad would come to visit me without my mom. She didn't really enjoy the trip, and circumstances at their home didn't allow them both to be gone at the same time. So in October of 2000, my dad came to see me by Amtrak from Southern California. I picked him up in Emeryville, which was the closest Amtrak station at that time, he could have taken the Amtrak bus to the Ferry Building, but I was so excited to see him, I drove across the Bay Bridge to go get him.
It never failed when my dad came to see me, I would have a wonderful time. I was "daddy's girl", I had always been. He was my biggest cheerleader in life. I loved him more than anyone else in the world, even now the only people I love more than my dad are my own kids.
I would always cook him special dinners, grilled steak, shrimp, I'd go down to the wharf and buy buckets of crab and we'd put newspapers over the kitchen table and crack them with tin cans since I didn't have crab crackers.
We would always drive down the coast from San Francisco to Santa Cruz as well. There was a little coffee place in Montera that had a deck, sitting right across from the ocean. The deck was glassed in, so that you could sit out there, have coffee, enjoy the view and not get blown over by the sea winds. They had the absolute best rocking chairs in the world. We would then drive on down the coast, stopping in Half Moon Bay at Barbara's Crab Shack (I think that was the name, I'm not positive). I found out about the place years ago from a local when I asked him where they had good seafood.
My dad and I would fill up on fried shrimp, clams, coleslaw, a few beers and we'd sit by the coast and eat our food and talk talk talk. I loved talking to him so much.
On that trip, we did all of the above. On his last full day there, we went for a walk on Baker Beach in the city. We were walking and talking like always, and he bent over, and picked up this little unassuming rock. He stood back up, and said to me, "Here you go Kid" and handed it to me.
Two months later, my dad had a stroke. He did recover from that, and managed to make one more trip to the Bay Area because my sister drove him, so that he could see my new born son.
The next six months were spent, taking my son back and forth to Southern California to be with his Grandma and Grandpa. My husband and I would go out and buy steak and crab for my mom and dad, and I would sit there and crack crab for my dad until he had his fill. For the rest of my life, I'll always be glad I cracked all that crab for my dad.
My dad died of lung cancer 6 months after my son was born.
So my rock, my seem unassuming and random, maybe it is. But it is also one of the most treasured items I possess. Not a day goes by, when I don't think about my dad, and how much he is missing. Even sadder to me, is that my kids will never know what a wonderful Grandfather they had.
He taught me that skin color doesn't matter, he taught me that gender doesn't matter, he taught me that sexual orientation doesn't matter. My dad was a seventh grade school teacher, and I have to hope, that the same qualities he worked so hard to teach me all my life, were passed on to his students.
Truly he was a man among men, and he was the best person I've ever known.
The two hand prints were of her and her sister, who died tragically a few years ago in a car accident. The dried flowers were from her sister's funeral, and the frame, her husband made for her. It was absolutely astounding, because not only was it beautiful, it wasn't sorrowful looking. Just a nice reminder for her of her sister.
Then, I began thinking about my rock. I have this small rock I keep in my car, in a tin from "dragon gum". It's just a plain old gray beach rock. Very smooth, very touchable. My rock, I've carried with with me for about 7 years now. It stays with me in my car for luck.
You see, my rock, is a memento of a precious trip I took with my dad, and as it turns out, it was the last trip we were able to take together.
When I lived in San Francisco, my dad would come to visit me without my mom. She didn't really enjoy the trip, and circumstances at their home didn't allow them both to be gone at the same time. So in October of 2000, my dad came to see me by Amtrak from Southern California. I picked him up in Emeryville, which was the closest Amtrak station at that time, he could have taken the Amtrak bus to the Ferry Building, but I was so excited to see him, I drove across the Bay Bridge to go get him.
It never failed when my dad came to see me, I would have a wonderful time. I was "daddy's girl", I had always been. He was my biggest cheerleader in life. I loved him more than anyone else in the world, even now the only people I love more than my dad are my own kids.
I would always cook him special dinners, grilled steak, shrimp, I'd go down to the wharf and buy buckets of crab and we'd put newspapers over the kitchen table and crack them with tin cans since I didn't have crab crackers.
We would always drive down the coast from San Francisco to Santa Cruz as well. There was a little coffee place in Montera that had a deck, sitting right across from the ocean. The deck was glassed in, so that you could sit out there, have coffee, enjoy the view and not get blown over by the sea winds. They had the absolute best rocking chairs in the world. We would then drive on down the coast, stopping in Half Moon Bay at Barbara's Crab Shack (I think that was the name, I'm not positive). I found out about the place years ago from a local when I asked him where they had good seafood.
My dad and I would fill up on fried shrimp, clams, coleslaw, a few beers and we'd sit by the coast and eat our food and talk talk talk. I loved talking to him so much.
On that trip, we did all of the above. On his last full day there, we went for a walk on Baker Beach in the city. We were walking and talking like always, and he bent over, and picked up this little unassuming rock. He stood back up, and said to me, "Here you go Kid" and handed it to me.
Two months later, my dad had a stroke. He did recover from that, and managed to make one more trip to the Bay Area because my sister drove him, so that he could see my new born son.
The next six months were spent, taking my son back and forth to Southern California to be with his Grandma and Grandpa. My husband and I would go out and buy steak and crab for my mom and dad, and I would sit there and crack crab for my dad until he had his fill. For the rest of my life, I'll always be glad I cracked all that crab for my dad.
My dad died of lung cancer 6 months after my son was born.
So my rock, my seem unassuming and random, maybe it is. But it is also one of the most treasured items I possess. Not a day goes by, when I don't think about my dad, and how much he is missing. Even sadder to me, is that my kids will never know what a wonderful Grandfather they had.
He taught me that skin color doesn't matter, he taught me that gender doesn't matter, he taught me that sexual orientation doesn't matter. My dad was a seventh grade school teacher, and I have to hope, that the same qualities he worked so hard to teach me all my life, were passed on to his students.
Truly he was a man among men, and he was the best person I've ever known.
January 25, 2008
i miss you
yesterday was my dad’s birthday, and last night I thought about him a lot. I’m not sure if I dreamt about him, but he was on my mind.
my dad...how can I explain?
he was mine. he was my greatest love until I had my babies. he loved me the way a kid dreams of being loved, unconditionally.
when I was growing up, in the desert of southern california, he and i used to lay out on our cots at night, sleeping in the back yard, and talk forever about the stars. were there aliens up there? there must be, we can’t be the only ones. this went on and on...he spurred me on. he encouraged my dreams, and the emotional part of me.
he was so special.
he was a teacher. he loved being a teacher, a science teacher to 7th and 8th graders.
he was one of those people who really loved what they did. it made him happy.
i went to my first dance with him when i was 12 at his school. i was so proud he was my dad, and even though i didn’t know any of the kids, they all came and talked to me, and told me how much they liked my dad. i know i preened with pride. i always did, he always made me proud.
as a grown up, he was my biggest supporter, and i knew, that i could depend on him for anything if i needed to.
once when i was in high school, i went out one friday night with a friend of mine. i had an old beater honda hatchback car. it was acting up, so when we started home, i called him and told him what road i was going on, and when i should be home. sure enough, my car broke down. my friend, was freaked out (this was long before cell phones, or pagers even). i wasn’t freaked out, i just told her to sit still, my dad would be there any time to get us. she didn’t believe me, she said her dad would never come get her like that.
i kept telling her, well, my dad will, he’ll be here in a few minutes. sure enough, about 20 minutes after i should have been home, he drove up to where we were broke down, picked us up and took us home. even to this day, nearly 30 years later, my friend still talks of this with me. how my dad came and got us. she said she learned that night what parents should do for their kids.
i have no way to really tell you how special my dad was. he was nothing special to look at, just an ordinary balding man with a big belly. but inside of that body, there was an angel, an angel who loved me with all his might.
i feel sad sometimes that my kids will never know him.
i can tell them, but they won’t really know. just like i didn’t know my grandma when my dad used to tell me about her. but his legacy lives on, in how i parent my kids.
how i love them. how i am determined to help them grow into strong, loving people. people who will be kind to others, who will not judge others, who will see that people are equal and worthy of love and respect. so you see my dad still lives in my heart, and in that way, my kids will know him, they will pass his legacy on to their children.
i know i’m emotional tonight, i just have a very hard time realizing he has been gone for almost 5 years now. it seems like a micro-second, not almost 5 years. life keeps going. i keep working. i keep loving. i know he is helping me to be a good parent.
the sad and wonderful thing is, even when we found out he was dying, he trusted me to help him make hard decisions. he asked me what i thought he should do about his treatment. i told him i thought he should not do chemo or radiation.
he was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer that had spread to his bones, his liver, his stomach. he knew, that since i had spent the greater part of my 20’s working with hospice patients, so he asked me. i told him that no matter what he decided that i would support him in the decision, but that i thought that treatment would only make him sick for the time he had left. god, i didn’t want to say that, but i had to. i had to tell him what i thought and felt. so we had a wonderful 6 weeks, then he left us, our dog came to get him, he was talking to her right before he died. that comforts me to think of him up there, with Lucy by his feet.
if you are wondering why i am writing with no caps, i guess it’s because i feel quiet. i tried the caps, but it just wasn’t working for me, so i’m using my quiet voice.
peace,
oc
p.s. happy birthday daddy
my dad...how can I explain?
he was mine. he was my greatest love until I had my babies. he loved me the way a kid dreams of being loved, unconditionally.
when I was growing up, in the desert of southern california, he and i used to lay out on our cots at night, sleeping in the back yard, and talk forever about the stars. were there aliens up there? there must be, we can’t be the only ones. this went on and on...he spurred me on. he encouraged my dreams, and the emotional part of me.
he was so special.
he was a teacher. he loved being a teacher, a science teacher to 7th and 8th graders.
he was one of those people who really loved what they did. it made him happy.
i went to my first dance with him when i was 12 at his school. i was so proud he was my dad, and even though i didn’t know any of the kids, they all came and talked to me, and told me how much they liked my dad. i know i preened with pride. i always did, he always made me proud.
as a grown up, he was my biggest supporter, and i knew, that i could depend on him for anything if i needed to.
once when i was in high school, i went out one friday night with a friend of mine. i had an old beater honda hatchback car. it was acting up, so when we started home, i called him and told him what road i was going on, and when i should be home. sure enough, my car broke down. my friend, was freaked out (this was long before cell phones, or pagers even). i wasn’t freaked out, i just told her to sit still, my dad would be there any time to get us. she didn’t believe me, she said her dad would never come get her like that.
i kept telling her, well, my dad will, he’ll be here in a few minutes. sure enough, about 20 minutes after i should have been home, he drove up to where we were broke down, picked us up and took us home. even to this day, nearly 30 years later, my friend still talks of this with me. how my dad came and got us. she said she learned that night what parents should do for their kids.
i have no way to really tell you how special my dad was. he was nothing special to look at, just an ordinary balding man with a big belly. but inside of that body, there was an angel, an angel who loved me with all his might.
i feel sad sometimes that my kids will never know him.
i can tell them, but they won’t really know. just like i didn’t know my grandma when my dad used to tell me about her. but his legacy lives on, in how i parent my kids.
how i love them. how i am determined to help them grow into strong, loving people. people who will be kind to others, who will not judge others, who will see that people are equal and worthy of love and respect. so you see my dad still lives in my heart, and in that way, my kids will know him, they will pass his legacy on to their children.
i know i’m emotional tonight, i just have a very hard time realizing he has been gone for almost 5 years now. it seems like a micro-second, not almost 5 years. life keeps going. i keep working. i keep loving. i know he is helping me to be a good parent.
the sad and wonderful thing is, even when we found out he was dying, he trusted me to help him make hard decisions. he asked me what i thought he should do about his treatment. i told him i thought he should not do chemo or radiation.
he was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer that had spread to his bones, his liver, his stomach. he knew, that since i had spent the greater part of my 20’s working with hospice patients, so he asked me. i told him that no matter what he decided that i would support him in the decision, but that i thought that treatment would only make him sick for the time he had left. god, i didn’t want to say that, but i had to. i had to tell him what i thought and felt. so we had a wonderful 6 weeks, then he left us, our dog came to get him, he was talking to her right before he died. that comforts me to think of him up there, with Lucy by his feet.
if you are wondering why i am writing with no caps, i guess it’s because i feel quiet. i tried the caps, but it just wasn’t working for me, so i’m using my quiet voice.
peace,
oc
p.s. happy birthday daddy
January 22, 2008
come to my window...
I’ve been on an Indigo Girls kick for awhile now. Finally, I decided to put on some of my other stuff, so I sent my iPod to “shuffle” and let it rip. I wonder why, I will go for weeks at a time, listening to the same bunch of songs? I’m not even really sure where I’m going with this, except that I put on Melissa E today, and realized again, for the 4 millionth time, just how much I love her, and always have. I was listening to “come to my window”, and the place where she sings, “What do they know about this love anyway?”….those of you who know her music will know what I mean. She holds that note forever, and I can listen to it forever, if there ever was such a thing as a “musical orgasm”, this would be mine. I’ve seen her live so many times, and it just brings back memories.
I remember the best time; she was doing a free show in SF during Pride week. She and Julie had just had the second baby ( I think) and she hadn’t been touring. They had the whole thing set up in front of city hall. It was one of those rare SF nights, balmy, warm, and wonderful. I was supposed to meet a friend and go see her, and he never showed up, so I just sort of hooked up with a “people train” and followed this group of people, and ended up in the very front, center, I still don’t know how I did it. She was so close to me, I could see her eyes, her hair, and her facial expressions. I remember how happy she seemed to be to be there. So incredibly happy. She hadn’t played in awhile, and she just let it go. She played for several hours; I still can’t believe how long she played. I’ve seen her bunch of times at “paid concerts” and she never played like she did that wonderful balmy night in SF during Pride…it was amazing, and I will remember all of my life.
Last night, on TV, I was glued to the History Channel. I watched “Decoding the Past”, and then “Life After Man”, talk about gloom and doom while going to sleep. It was almost enough to terrify me. They kept going on and on about how the planets were aligned for an eventual “doomsday” of December 21, 2012. If I was a superstitious person, I think it might have gotten the better of me, I know Nostradamus used to when I was a kid. Same thing, except they put a date on it. I kept thinking, I hope not…my kids are still babies….on and on, knowing this was pretty much assured to be not true, but there is always that “what if” in the back of my head. It made me say a little prayer to the universe though, to please take care of all of us.
I guess where I’m going with all this, is that listening to some really comforting music today eased my soul a bit. I hate that I do tend to get freaked out about stuff like that. That’s why organized religion has never been a good fit with me either.
When I was a kid, about 10 years old, I went to church with a friend of mine and her family. When I came home, I was completely terrified that the world was going to end, all the stuff in Revelations was what they had been preaching about that week, (unfortunately for me), and I was absolutely terrified. It took me months to even sort of get over that. Even then, I remember thinking that the “god” I loved would never be such a mean cruel sort of “god”. I could see through it even then.
My dad was an old soul, and he taught me well, even when I was a kid, to think for myself. To question what didn’t seem right to me, and not to play follow the leader. He taught me that there were good, kind human beings, and living your life in a good kind way and respecting everyone was what was most important. I thank him everyday of my life for loving me the way he did.
On 1/24/08, it will be my dad’s 78th birthday, and he will have been gone for almost 4 ½ years. He was one of the hero’s.
Peace,
OC
I remember the best time; she was doing a free show in SF during Pride week. She and Julie had just had the second baby ( I think) and she hadn’t been touring. They had the whole thing set up in front of city hall. It was one of those rare SF nights, balmy, warm, and wonderful. I was supposed to meet a friend and go see her, and he never showed up, so I just sort of hooked up with a “people train” and followed this group of people, and ended up in the very front, center, I still don’t know how I did it. She was so close to me, I could see her eyes, her hair, and her facial expressions. I remember how happy she seemed to be to be there. So incredibly happy. She hadn’t played in awhile, and she just let it go. She played for several hours; I still can’t believe how long she played. I’ve seen her bunch of times at “paid concerts” and she never played like she did that wonderful balmy night in SF during Pride…it was amazing, and I will remember all of my life.
Last night, on TV, I was glued to the History Channel. I watched “Decoding the Past”, and then “Life After Man”, talk about gloom and doom while going to sleep. It was almost enough to terrify me. They kept going on and on about how the planets were aligned for an eventual “doomsday” of December 21, 2012. If I was a superstitious person, I think it might have gotten the better of me, I know Nostradamus used to when I was a kid. Same thing, except they put a date on it. I kept thinking, I hope not…my kids are still babies….on and on, knowing this was pretty much assured to be not true, but there is always that “what if” in the back of my head. It made me say a little prayer to the universe though, to please take care of all of us.
I guess where I’m going with all this, is that listening to some really comforting music today eased my soul a bit. I hate that I do tend to get freaked out about stuff like that. That’s why organized religion has never been a good fit with me either.
When I was a kid, about 10 years old, I went to church with a friend of mine and her family. When I came home, I was completely terrified that the world was going to end, all the stuff in Revelations was what they had been preaching about that week, (unfortunately for me), and I was absolutely terrified. It took me months to even sort of get over that. Even then, I remember thinking that the “god” I loved would never be such a mean cruel sort of “god”. I could see through it even then.
My dad was an old soul, and he taught me well, even when I was a kid, to think for myself. To question what didn’t seem right to me, and not to play follow the leader. He taught me that there were good, kind human beings, and living your life in a good kind way and respecting everyone was what was most important. I thank him everyday of my life for loving me the way he did.
On 1/24/08, it will be my dad’s 78th birthday, and he will have been gone for almost 4 ½ years. He was one of the hero’s.
Peace,
OC
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