5/20- A Visit With Dad

As Becky and I drove back to her place for the night I got a voicemail from Dad about seeing him the next day. It was a strange one, though, since he wanted me to bring him and Barb, his wife, lunch at her school and the bulk of the message was what they wanted and vague directions on how to get there. It was capped off at the end with, "maybe you could mow the lawn too". I'm pretty sure he didn't realize I was on foot, but at least I was going to see him.

Becky is a teacher at the high school down the road so after whipping up a quick breakfast for both of us I was soon stepping out of her car by 7:30. I wasn't quite sure how far, or exactly where, anything was from there, but I knew a road and direction so I set off down it. Lunch was to be at 11:30, so I had 4 hours to get my bearings, find the Subway for sandwiches and figure out which school they were at and how to get there. Somewhat daunting, but somewhat fun. Four miles later I found my first target.

The Subway was in a Pride station that I recognized having been to with Dad before. I'd figured out, through a few maps, where three elementary schools were in the area of which anyone of them could be hers. According to my Dad's directions though, it was a half mile from where I was, so I could walk to all three within an hour or so. I'd been before so I knew I'd recognize it on sight.

Being that it was about 9am then I figured I could spare a rest for coffee while I gathered the sandwiches. While resting at one of their tables I ended up talking with a guy next to me, Pat.

Pat actually struck up the conversation. He is an avid hiker himself, but had snapped his ankle a few months back retiring him from mobility for a good while. Also he turned out to be the owner of the Pride station along with six others in the area. He was a really neat guy, going on about great walks to take around New England, waxing on about the wealth of poets and writers from Thoreau to Dr. Seuss, and then we spent a great deal of time on the workings of putting good energy out there and how it always comes back in new forms. We chatted over coffee for a good two hours before I needed to go. Offhandedly he gave me his number offering to help out if I needed anything, along with his own blog that he keeps.

Armed with my three sandwiches strapped to the pack I made my way to the first suspect school around the corner. It was very definitely the wrong one. Turning around, I set off for the other two, which thankfully were down the same way. I got about half way to the first one on that road when I got another call from my Dad. He apparently had not gone into work with Barb that day because Dan, the youngest of my two step brothers, was sick. An inconvenient shift in plans, but what can you do?

From where I was my Dad was about ten miles away in the other direction. I turned right around heading back again running through my head any bus possibilities or maybe hitching there.

I called Todd, back in Santa Fe, to unload on him what was going on and to see if he could check the Springfield bus schedules online. He was under going his own strange phenomenon with an old high school person surfacing randomly. While talking to him I gave him Pat's website to check out and moments later Pat himself drove by honking and waving hello at me. It would still take for me to get back to the Pride station again, and head off from it once more before it dawned on me to call him.

I felt like a jackass. Here I am going on about following signs, spotting meaning in coincidences, and learning lessons from the heavens and I can't even figure out to call a guy I meet that morning, completely in tune with what I'm talking about and a few clubbings over the head to drive the point home. I'm one who really hesitates on asking for help, so the lesson there was clear. I was in trouble, I knew a random stranger who would be more than willing to help, my role was to just ask for it. So I did, and he swung right by and dropped me off ten minutes later. Problem solved, the heavens breathe a sigh of exasperated relief.

Thanking Pat probably to annoyance I grabbed my pack and met my Dad at the front door. He was looking in much better health than when I last saw him stranded on his bed back in December when his last stroke was. He still, however, was not the man he was anymore and it was hardest to see him know it. We sat and had lunch together over the next half hour catching up somewhat on what was going on with the both of us. The words were hard and slow though, and despite both of us desperately wanting to connect fully and run with our minds over these ideas we couldn't at all. I could tell how frustrated he was by this, and draining. We moved to the lawn mowing.

Mowing the lawn is an image I long hold in relation with my Dad and growing up. Moving away at 18 I haven't mowed a lawn, other than Musty's the other day, since then. My Dad has always been one to stay busy around the house with such chores, and has since he was a kid. This was what suddenly made this chore a heartfelt moment when he showed me the particulars of his old mower.

It was as if he were going over a picture album with me, passing his memories down to his son. He explained his tarping technique, where he likes to start and finish at, and an estimate on how long it would take. I picked a few things up off the yard and when I turned back to the mower he was trying to pull the cord, his bad arm resting againt the handle. I yelled over that I'd get it, but he responded saying he just wanted to see if he still could. When I got closer to him he was in tears, hunched over the mower. It was killing him most to feel unhelpful anymore, or worse, a burden.

My Nana, his mother, had been very much the same way in her late years and I was stunned to see it in so clearly. Pulling him off the mower I gave him a big, tight hug and after a moment asked him how long he'd been mowing lawns for. Since he was ten years old he half whispered back. In an attempt to reassure him I told him after fifty years of mowing lawns I think its high time you take rest and pass the torch on.

He went back into the house for a bit after that and I started mowing the lawn. After ten or twenty minutes he dragged a lawn chair out and sat reading while I mowed for the next two hours. It was among one of the most bonding things we've done together for probably 15, maybe even 20, years.