Another Father's Day

Thank God!

Jun 15, 2024

brown wooden card on white table — Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Thank you for your guiding hand,
Thank you for making my dreams come true,
You're an extraordinary man,
And I hope you're as proud of me
As I am proud of you.
Thank you for giving me life,
Thank you for showing me good from bad.
I guess I'm only really trying to say,
Thank you for being my Dad.-John Barker

Last month, in my post "Opting Out of Mother's Day," I wrote about how tough it was to deal with the second Mother's Day after my Mom's death. ( She died four days before Mother's Day last year, and we were so caught up in our grief that the holiday didn't really register.) Tomorrow, I have the privilege of wishing my Dad a Happy Father's Day. I am so grateful that he is still here. He celebrated his 95th birthday a couple of weeks ago!

Those of us getting ready to age out of Middle Age, and others already there, are facing another strange transition if we are lucky enough to have one or both of our parents still alive. We face the weird situation of experiencing the people who were once strong and capable and OUR caretakers becoming frail, weak, and needing us to help care for them.

Leave a comment

My Dad has always been the strongest man I have ever known. At 95, he still presents himself as in control, as the Dad! He doesn't want to have to ask for help. He doesn't want to be a burden. He still thinks it is HIS job to take care of us. But his body is letting him down. His life right now is a series of contradictions. He needs a walker to move around his room and uses a wheelchair to go down to breakfast as he now lives in an assisted living facility on the second floor. But...he still does daily pushups using the wheelchair as the base. He walks the hallways for hours using the walker. He plays the harmonica endlessly as his fingers are no longer strong enough to play the guitar. He can't see or hear very well, but he makes do.

My Dad had a tough life as a child and young adult. He was born in 1929 to a poor couple who lived in West Texas. My paternal grandfather died when my Dad was a baby, just after the Great Depression began. My grandmother needed to find work, so she left my Dad with her parents and traveled around Texas seeking employment to send money for his care. She did everything: waitress, housecleaning, working on farms, you name it, she did it. My favorite job of hers was as a Harvey Girl. (Read about them here.) I so wish I had a picture of her in that uniform.

I think because his Mom wasn't around when he was a child and he never knew his Dad, it was the priority of his life to have a "traditional" family—one where it was his responsibility to take care of us. I won't take the time in this post to take you through his entire history...that could be a novel, but let's just say circumstances led to him moving to Albuquerque, New Mexico, as a teenager. He lived on his own in high school, renting a motel room with a kitchenette and working as a ticket taker at a local theatre. He was soon promoted to assistant manager. He has always had an incredible work ethic.

After graduating high school, my Dad joined the Army and served in the Korean War. After being honorably discharged, he moved to California and became a deputy sheriff for L.A. County. During that time, he met my Mom. I must digress a bit to tell you their story. I love it so much. My Mom was a dance instructor at the Arthur Murray Dance Studio in Los Angeles. The studio had a weekly T.V. show called the Arthur Murray Party on a local station featuring dance routines...when popular dances included the Rumba, Mambo, Foxtrot, and Swing. My Mom was one of the "stars". Her maiden name sounded very Italian, so they changed it to Lane because they thought her actual last name was too ethnic! How wild is that? My Dad wanted a part-time job to supplement his income as a deputy. A friend told him the dance studio was looking for male teachers, and he applied. He met my Mom, and they fell in love; the rest is history. ( I did not inherit either of their talent for dance. I have two left feet!!)

My Dad continued his journey of working two jobs when my sisters and I were young. He also went to college at night and graduated with a B.A. in Business. During the last ten years or so, he has apologized for working so much and, as he said, for missing out on part of our childhood. But, you know what? He didn't. He was always there when we needed him. He was there for family events, helping us with our homework after dinner, Father-Daughter dances, and vacations. His normal was working all day at his main job, coming home for dinner and being there until our bedtime, and then working a second job from 9:00 pm to 1 am. Then, he came home, slept a few hours, and repeated the process. We were too young to realize he was gone for part of the night. We were sleeping! The second job was so we could have special things above and beyond daily expenses. He was promoted several times until he felt comfortable giving up the second job. His last position with the County was Assistant Coroner. He wasn't an M.D.; he oversaw the department and all the investigators. One day, I will write a post focusing on that job. The stories of celebrity deaths, of mass murderers (Charles Manson?, The Hillside Strangler?), of disasters resulting in deaths like plane crashes? If it happened in L.A., my Dad was involved. When my boyfriends would visit, I think they were as happy to talk with my Dad about his job and eat my Mom's cooking as they were interested in seeing me!!!

My Dad has always encouraged my sisters and me to be whatever we wanted to be. He never once questioned our ambitions. He has always been my biggest cheerleader. He never fails to tell us how proud he is of us. He gives advice if we ask but never tells us what to do. It poured on my wedding day, and the path to the chapel was made of cobblestones. I was afraid, knowing me, that I would slip and fall, leading to a muddy mess on my dress. As we walked, my Dad held my arm and said, "I won't let you fall, never have, never will. And, if you do when I am not around, I will be there to help you get up."

I decided to write this post today honoring my Dad because I don't know how many more Father's Days he will be here. And I am still missing my Mom so very much. When my Mom was alive, my Dad and I would have very short phone conversations. They would go something like this: " Hi Bug! (my childhood nickname from him.) How are you? Everything ok? Alright, let me get your Mom. I love you very much. Bye." We now have long phone conversations, like 3 hours at a time. He reminisces about his life, childhood, career, friends who have passed, and family memories and tells the same stories repeatedly. And while it sometimes gets old hearing the same things over and over, often in the same conversation, there is something comforting knowing that my sisters and I will never forget his history. We will never forget HIM.

My dad and me. 10 years ago on a fishing/hiking day in Taos. He was 85 in this photo!

I realize there are as many different stories about dads out there as there are dads. Some of you have excellent relationships; some are estranged. Some have never known their dads, and some have passed. You may have other people in your life who fill the role of father...step-dads, male or female relatives, friends, teachers, coaches. It varies. So, I am curious. When you hear the word “Dad", what comes to mind? Has your relationship changed as you have aged? As they have aged? What is it like for you to become the caretaker or responsible party for an aging parent? Please share your experiences in the comments section. Tell me about your Dad. I would love to hear his story.

Leaving Middle Age

Discussion about this post