Another "Dad" Memory-

My Mother raised me.
Dad was there, in the background.
He provided. He presented an example. But he was aloof.
I always thought losing Mom would be hardest.
I was wrong.

I woke in the wee hours to a mechanical sound I knew was trouble. It was VERY cold outside, and our furnace was making strange mechanical noises. Snug in my bed, I could feel the temperature in the house begin to drop.
I heard Dad get out of bed and walk past my bedroom, then out the back door. I knew where he was going. Our garage with all the tools was detached.
Soon I heard the back door open, then the sound of the tool bag being dropped on the floor of the utility room. "Clink, clunk, clank"... the sound of tools being manipulated resounded through the getting-colder night air.
And then the furnace came back on, making normal furnace sounds.
And the room warmed.
And Dad went back to bed, to catch a few more Z's before he had to get up and go to work.
Roof overhead. Food on the table. Comforting warmth.
To provide.

We had a very strained relationship until I was drafted and left home.
We never got as close as I would have liked. He was too Macho for that.
But we did get closer.
And I thank God every day for that.

My Dad-
WWII Veteran and Purple Heart recipient, would have been 99 today.

Life Throws A Curveball

I HAAAAAAAATE talking on the phone. I use mine as a tool, NOT a social device.
I tell that to all my friends.
Few listen. I let them talk to the machine.

He'd call. He'd be drunk. He wanted to talk. He needed me to listen.
I got to the point when I saw his number on my phone I'd let his go to voicemail.
Eventually, he'd call Sara Jean.
She LIKES to talk on the phone.
It was a heaven-sent match. They'd talk, (he'd talk, she'd listen, with an uh-huh inserted now and then), for HOURS.

We've known him a long time. He's had a strange upbringing. His life is... let's kindly say "unorganized".
Money is not a difficulty, but it may be a problem-
The problem is that he doesn't have to worry about it.

He's out of work. He wants to work in the discipline he has trained for.
Those jobs are scarce. He's been unemployed for, let's just say a LONG time.

So he sits alone in his beautiful home, with his beautiful car in the garage and he drinks.
And he calls my wife. And she, thank God, listens to him.
For hours.

In Arizona, we were looking forward to coming home so we could get face-to-face with him-
Go out to eat. Engage in other activities to distract him from the problems in his life.
He was excited. Told us he loved us both. He began to plan activities for our return.

And then I got the call from his Mother.
He's dead.
Morbidly obese. Heart attack.
We are crushed.

Yeah, life is not fair.
Make the most of yours.