no hard feelings

December 7, 2007

Saw a man jogging…
he looked like dad.

I tried not to wish
it was him.

I tried.

Posted in anger, beer, children, dad, death, dying, existence, family, father, fatherhood, Miscellaneous, Mom, Poetry, poor, son, writing | 4 Comments »

4 Responses to “no hard feelings”

  1. mikaelah Says:

    December 7, 2007 at 4:07 pm

    I will every so often see a man who walks like my grandfather. I love when that happens. I just love it so much when that happens.

    Reply
  2. qazse Says:

    December 8, 2007 at 2:32 am

    can you tell me more about him?

    Reply
  3. mikaelah Says:

    December 8, 2007 at 12:26 pm

    well, sure. Not sure if I can do justice to what I see in description. He always wore jeans or these work pants – guess they are called overalls. He wasn’t a farmer in the strict sense, but he was very farmer like in that he had a thing about plants and gardens and was always growing things. Anyway, when I see the occasional farm dude walking along … kind of shuffling gait, a little bit bent over but not much … that is when I think … Oh!!! There he is!!! and then I just know he is all over the place and I figure he is out doing some errand and it just feels so friendly.

    He had a very fun sense of humor and liked to play little jokes on grandma and was just very generous and kind. He wasn’t so good to his own two children who had all kinds of issues with him, but the grandkids adored him and he just wasn’t like anybody I have ever met since.

    Grandma was pretty much a character too, but Grandpa is the one I see out and about. I would go with him on jobs and help hand him tools and stuff. He was self employed as an electrician and he also was a landlord. He had several houses around town and so I would go and help him when he fixed them up or whatever needed to happen. The tenants were all like family.

    I wasn’t home when he died so did not go to the funeral. I missed a lot of funerals for some reason and the outcome of that for me is that my mind still sees my relatives and friends as here-out and about in the world. I just have this sort of thing in my mind where I know I won’t go over to their house anymore or call them on the phone but every so often they will show up in the way someone talks or walks and that is how we know we are still connected and all is good.

    His mother dropped him off at his aunts house when he was a little boy – don’t know exactly but I think maybe three or four years old because she couldn’t take care of him and then she came back for him about ten years later and his aunt would not give him back to her. So, he had lots of stories about his Aunt who raised him. She was a character too. Terrible cook. When she would can vegetables and send them to the house he said to take them and be sure and throw them away. That she would often serve spoilt or rotten food and was not to be trusted. He also ran a restaurant for awhile with my grandmother and from the stories about it … well grandma was also terrible in the kitchen so I just can’t even imagine it. Her claim to fame was knowing the best take out places in town.

    Reply
  4. qazse Says:

    December 8, 2007 at 11:08 pm

    It is curious how The scenario of not-so-hot-dad BUT wonderful grandparent often plays out. I think we often have higher expectations ( guilt? fear? responsibility? projection? reaction formation?) for our kids than the grandkids.

    You are very fortunate to have been able to go around with him as his little helper.

    Regarding not being there – I believe: in death comes perfect understanding. There is never any disharmony with the dead. They just love.

    My dad died at 61. He had gone through the depression, a fatherless home, WWII (Normandy Invasion), seven kids, thirty five years standing on ladders, and forty seven years of smoking. He was a good man but always working. Everyone loved him. So do I.

    Thanks for you disclosure.

    Happy trails…

    Reply

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