My Dad
My dad has a big birthday coming up this year. And it falls, as it always does, during the Winter holiday season. My stepmom, sister, and six-year-old nephew are also winter holiday babies, all living across the Country from me.
My stepmom, whose memory is much better than mine, possibly better than anyone’s, could lovingly tell me, year by year, when I’ve arrived, what shows or parties or activities she and my dad organized for me, what special meals we enjoyed, who we saw, and perhaps how my jetlag was or wasn’t that particular year for the last 40+ years of this migration.
And she could also tell me the specifics of each year’s Summer trip. The Summer trip, as opposed to the Winter trip, is the one where we celebrate my birthday, and my other sister’s birthday, and now my son’s birthday too. The Summer babies’ birthdays conveniently cluster together.
Winter is NY fam and ice skating and Big Apple Circus and menorah-shaped sugar cookies and Rockefeller Center trees. Summer is NY fam and big East Coast beaches and waves and tennis and birthday cakes.
I thought I wouldn’t survive missing the annual Summer trip. I cried and I strategized. I had a physical, primal pull East. But this year, the virus. So no Summer trip.
I consoled myself with the fact that we would go as soon as it was safe. We didn’t think — I didn’t think — it would be so long. And now it’s Winter. And no trip.
I miss my family. I miss my dad. Historically, he and I don’t do a lot of phone chatting. We’re more connected in the doing of stuff, the being with each other.
We like to play tennis together, take long beach walks, jump in the ocean, stroll different neighborhoods, scare birds with loud shouts, sing doo wop off key and at inappropriate moments, divvy up bagels piled with smoked fish, watch Ax and his cousins run around in the yard. Build pebble towers. Collect rocks. Travel. Window shop real estate, cars, and sneakers. Watch the news and chat about other things while it blares in the background. Hug.
When I was little I loved to snuggle with him while he watched his news stuff after a day of big activity. I remember it was the coziest, safest place in the world. No need for chit chat, just the feeling of love flowing.
I know that love is flowing across the Country. It’s easier to feel it in a hug or a good baseline rally, the offering of an early morning 2 eggs on a roll and coffee from the deli or the corner cart. A rush hour pick-up at JFK followed by an exciting, new “alternate route” back home.
“Don’t tell anyone this great shortcut I found,” he’d say, weaving back streets. “No problem,” I’d say, having no idea where we were, and not caring. The exciting and fun adventure of visiting dad commenced the second we got together.
That’s the way I’m used to giving the love and getting the love. In person. I’m used to bringing the love by getting on a plane, showing up, producing the grandson and husband. That’s how we do it. That’s how we’ve done it.
But this year we’re trying new methods. New love protocols — Dad sent Ax a handwritten note. I’m scheduling family zooms and we’re all showing up.
Dad takes my calls even if it’s just to say he can’t talk. I call him even if it’s just a quick check in for no reason. Nothing to report, nothing to request. A quick phone hug, if you will.
We didn’t do that stuff as much, the little mini connections, when I knew we were going to get a live visit. It wasn’t part of our relationship routine. I had a habit, I guess, of looking forward to and saving up for those times. I had a story that dad was a busy man of action. I didn’t want to bug him.
But Dad doesn’t seem to be bugged by the new “for no reason” kind of contacts. And I’m liking the new kind of connection with my dad even though I miss the old ones.
I’ll take what I can get. And he’s giving it, in a way I know is new for him too. Sending articles, nature videos to share with Ax, even selfies of himself in his daily.
So there’s the love. There’s the connection. Just because it’s been the way it’s been doesn’t mean that’s the only way it has to be.
Big birthdays aside, we are learning new tricks. And I’m grateful. I’m gonna keep going.
www.livingeveryminuteofit.com
Virtual hugs to you and yours.
