I'm a potter and artist from the NYC area living in rural Eastern Kentucky. I swear a lot.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Dreary day in Irvine, today. My husband is napping on this Father's Day. I'm getting ready to call my own father back in New York and wish him a Happy Father's Day. I am grateful to still have him at 86 years old. He's a little repetitive now but still cute for an old man. A few years ago, he came out for a visit and we took a walk around the garden, I knew in my heart, it would be the last time I could have that kind of cognizant connection with him because I could tell, although he was there physically, albeit getting slower, mentally, he was drifting away. I looked at him at the edge of the sawdust pile with love in my heart and burst out crying, hugging him and just telling him that I loved him. I couldn't tell him any thing else that I was thinking. And just like Dad has always done, he held me and told me he loved me, too, nothing else. Unspoken communication. Father love. My husband does it, too, with his son who lives away from us. The situation with his son is sad because of the interference his ex-wife still causes but the bond between father and son is as strong as ever. Despite her best efforts to break that bond of love and supplant another in the role of "father," she has failed. I do worry about my stepson's inevitable resentment toward her for denying him childhood experiences with his own father but ultimately, that's her own doing and my only concern is that my stepson not let that interfere with his emotional well-being and yes, his ability to love his own mother. In the mean time, I wish for my stepson, the ability to pass on that same strong bond of love to his children and to those special people in his life in the future
To my husband, I wish a fabulous nap in the other room until it's time to watch some golf! Time to call Dear Old Dad.