A Father's Job is Never Done

A strange thing happened the other day. I recently moved from the place I had lived in for the last 16 years. I actually moved to another town that is a sort of suburb adjacent to the one had been living in which was also the town I grew up in mostly.

Anyway, it was a difficult move. I was even unsure that I had made the right decision regarding the place I had moved into and I continued to trouble over the choices I was making for the near future throughout the duration of my laborious change of residency.

Then, a couple of nights ago, something happened that was very unexpected, and yet so very welcome and needed at the same time. My dad came over. This was unusual, to say the least. I can't remember the last time my dad and I spent time together, frankly. He came over in the early evening, and we proceeded to just "hang out". I was still in my jeans and a white t-shirt, and pretty committed to finishing up the heavy parts of the move I had left to do. The funny thing was, my dad showed up wearing a t-shirt and jeans as well, which is very out of character for him, being the workaholic practitioner of law that he has always been. An attorney by day, and an attorney by night, I almost didn't recognize him without his customary 3-piece pinstripe barrister's costume, but I didn't let it show. I didn't say a word. I just smiled, opened the door to my new place and gestured a warm and thankful greeting to him with a long over due hug.

This was a very different visit for the two of us. I didn't say a word, as I already said. The odd thing is, my dad didn't utter a single syllable either - not just for the first few minutes involved as we greeted each other, but also for the duration of the entire 3-hour, or so, visit that ended up ensuing for the better part of that evening.

I gave dad the grand tour of the place, and watched as he sized up my new abode. It was funny, but you know he didn't have to say a word when we walked into the laundry room and I saw him assess the hot water heater situation. Why, it was much the same as the situation we had with our hot water heater up in the house I grew up in. The supply pipes weren't insulated. Very few things could send my dad into a rant like the pipes to a water heater that were not properly insulated. That was the epitome of hard earned money going right out the window. Right down the drain! Both! We had probably only stood there looking at the water heater for maybe 5 or 10 seconds when we both looked at each other with a knowing mutual nod. Then he got shot me an ever so slight smile. It was a smile that told me without any words that he understood that I understood, and that he was proud of me for learning that little lesson, and that he was glad that he was able to share it with me, and that I was a good son. These were odd sentiments for us to share, nonetheless, we shared them. It had been a very long time since we had shared anything.

We walked outside and stepped off the perimeter of the property together. I remembered when I was 5 or 6 and he would take me to look at investment properties, and how he would start at one end of a lot and begin taking those huge steps that meant we were doing our official unofficial measurement walk of the land. I was going to tell him that even when I got older and realized that he had been stepping off yards, I had never been able to get the length of my step as consistent as his was. I always ended up with a measurement that was over, or under, but always off either way. I was going to tell him, but I didn't have to say a thing. When we got to the edge of the lot, he squared up on the property line and started pacing the length ahead of me just like when I was a kid. I had to laugh because I still had to skip trot just to keep up with him after he got started.

He paced of the distance and counted the paces doing all sorts of calculations, divisions, estimations, and revisions as he made his way. I counted the number of paces and when he got to the other side, I multiplied by three and looked to him to see if everything added up correctly. Sure enough, but without a single solitary word when he finished pacing off the perimeter, he turned to me, and gave me an approving nod and a wink. I had done just fine. That made me feel good. It allowed me to rest assured.

The rest of the time we spent that evening we spent back in my new place. We built a fire in the fireplace and had some coffee - just the way we always liked it. And we agreed, and disagreed, and pondered, and wondered, and questioned, and answered, and imagined, and made all sorts of decisions all evening long, and throughout the entire time, not a word did we exchange.

All too soon the visit came to an end. I walked him to the door and once again let myself be reassured by that slight smile of approval I guess I had been so desperately in need of for a very long time. Then I gave my dad a hug and a wink in return as he gave my cheek a little pat.

I don't think I have ever had such a strange visit with my dad. I woke up the following morning and for at least a couple of the first hours of the day, it felt like, and I would have sworn, that my father was still just as alive as he had been the last time I had seen him before he passed away some 19 years ago.

I have never been so grateful in all of my life for that truly special quality time I was blessed to share with my dad that night as I dreamt. I hope we do it again very soon.