Day 86

When I was in middle school, my parents took us to Busch Gardens down in Virginia. While there, we took a wagon ride. The wagon was pulled by the famous clydesdale horses. During the ride, Mom asked Dad, “If I were a horse, what kind of horse would I be?” Dad immediately answered, “A clydesdale.” He honestly thought he was complimenting Mom by observing the fact that she worked hard. Needless to say, Mom was thoroughly insulted, because he called her a work horse. She never let Dad live it down, none of us ever did.

Dad died eight weeks ago and I’m still not sleeping well. Last night, my allergies were so bad I took allergy medicine which, as always, knocked me out. I finally fell into a deep enough sleep that I dreamed. Dad walked into my room and stood next to my bed. He looked down at me asked, “Why did you let them kill me? Why didn’t you tell them to wait? I could have come home if only you waited.” I immediately woke up and bolted upright, but of course he wasn’t there. The room was dark. I was alone, but never did fall back to sleep.

This morning, while my son did his school work (there wasn’t much because the school year is winding down) I helped Mom do more cleaning. The roof of the house was covered in debris (branches and leaves). I said I was going up to sweep it off. Mom argued with me. She didn’t want me to get hurt. “But I’ve done it for the last couple of years,” I pointed out. “Ever since Dad thought he was too old and said my bones would heal quicker than his if I fell.” Of course she responded, “I don’t want you to fall.” Dad didn’t either. It was joke. It used to be funny, but I guess without Dad things that used to make him laugh now make the rest of us want to cry. Despite Mom’s fears, I got the ladder out of the shed and climbed up onto the roof.  

For social studies class, my son had to watch a live youtube program with a New Jersey historian. I thought it was a great idea and so I sat and watched the program with him. We learned a few new things, like the fact that New Jersey was named after old Jersey because George Carteret lived in Jersey and he once let King Charles II stay at his house. My son was excited to hear that King Charles II had a cavalier King Charles dog, because Emma and Lily (his uncles’ dogs) are that breed. I mean it makes sense, the dog was named after the king. Mostly, the historian reviewed things my son already knew. Multiple times, when the historian mentioned a landmark, he turned to me and said, “We’ve been there.” For someone who dislikes living in New Jersey, I guess I did an exceptional job teaching my kid the state’s history. We haven’t gone to visit Lucy the Elephant. Nor have we visited Cape May.  So when the historian talked about them, my son nudged me and said, “Tell Mommy to get right on it.” Yes, I’m sure neither trip with change my opinion of where I live, but I’d like to see both places as well.

My son refused to go to “Grandpa’s Beach” (Veteran’s Beach). But it was a beautiful beach day. I know Dad would have wanted him to enjoy the day, so I kept insisting that we go. Eventually my son compromised, “Okay, but we’re going to the sound.” We have less memories of Daddy there. At the sound, I took advantage of the space and time to practice my taekwondo form in it’s entirety. My son was mortified. He came racing over to me and tried to knock me over. “You’re embarrassing me,” he shouted. “Do you have any idea how weird you look?” But I needed to practice and I sensed I was turning in the wrong direction after one of the moves. I wanted to ask my instructor where I was going wrong so that he could correct me. And so I said to my son, “I’ll pay you a dollar if you take a video of me.” He agreed with a smile. How quickly one can overcome embarrassment if the pay-off is cash.

Also while at the beach, a crazy idea popped into my head for a kid’s book. I’m not sure if it’s a picture book or chapter book. But the characters are clear, as is the concept. It’s just a matter developing the plot. 

As we were driving home, my son said,” I am sensing a disparity. If you read my messages, I should be allowed to read your text messages.” I responded, “But I am the parent and you are the child. I have to make sure you aren’t sending anything inappropriate.” He wasn’t having it, and so he argued back, “And I need to make sure you aren’t cheating on Mommy or doing drugs.”

Almost three months ago (88 days to be exact) on pi day, March 14, before my world was shattered, before Mom and Dad came home, before I knew that Dad would die, we had picture day at taekwondo. I was all excited to take a family photo. I was excited for my son’s first black belt photos. I couldn’t wait to give the pictures to my Dad. But two days after the shoot, the state shut down. Yesterday, my spouse went to pick up the pictures because they were finally in. It was finally safe to get them. But seeing the pictures are bitter sweet. I’m happy to have my son’s black belt pictures, but I’m incredibly sad that Dad will never see them.