Facing the Storm

“Everything I want is too expensive.” Dad explains when asked what he would like for Father’s Day. This one’s for you, Dad! Happy Father’s Day, I love you!

One of my favourite places to escape to for a moment is underneath the gazebo you had built a few years ago. Many gazebos have failed the test of time, or rather the hurricane winds that blow through our yard. However, the gazebo you had built stands tall and strong. It is its own little sanctuary; a piece of home in any direction you look. There is a wooden swing where I used to read books and diligently complete my homework. The lights that twinkle across the ceiling in a whimsical kind of way. Your ash can, an old coffee tin, sits on the glass top table in a familiar fashion. Depending on the time of year, garlic hangs from the arches of the structure. We would joke that this was intended to scare boys away from your daughters. The lilac trees on the north end seem to block the outside world, creating a secret hideaway for those who are in need of catching their breath.

Under the gazebo is where we have hung out as a family. As tight knit or as extended as can be. There’s many memories there. Sharing meals, sharing drinks, sharing laughs or sharing company. Conversations ranging from difficult to light-hearted. I treasure each and every one. That is my special place.

I sat with you there the other day. I love sitting under the gazebo with my dad. The time loses meaning and I can sink into a moment of being. There is no agenda; it’s simply peace and fresh perspective. The air was humid and heavy. When I looked out into the fields, the hazy air seemed to distort the way it appeared, so that it looked like waves of dirt in motion. Yet there’s always a light breeze under the shelter; sweet in a sense.

You could hear a storm brewing nearby, approaching rather quickly. The dark clouds crept closer and then thunder followed. The wind would pick up and the leaves would rustle loudly and begin to flap increasingly vigorously. I like to think of it as a dance between the wind and the leaves. Then the rain came. And it poured. The humidity dissipated and the smell of summer rain flooded my nostrils. We sat there, watching as the rain filled the fields. The droplets beating the wood of the deck and the roof, setting a refreshingly light tone. The odd raindrops seem to make it past the structure, but it’s okay! I’ll gladly sit out here longer with my dad’s company.

While this was happening, a memory flashed in my mind. I was taken back to when I was little and when we would all gather in The Shop to watch the wicked thunder storms from the tall garage doors. The skies were black, but when the lightning would strike, the world would light up, casting shadows on the trees outside and inside The Shop. The thunder would shake the earth; it felt as if there was very little standing between me and the outside. Water would trickle in under the door and create little puddles of water that would squish when stepped on. These storms were scary, however absolutely fascinating. As long as I had my dad, I was safe from whatever the weather brought in.

This is one of the many stories that came to mind when I decided this Father’s Day, I wanted to write something special for you. You taught me to face the storms; to be fierce even when I feel like hiding. Thank you for all of the memories, the lessons, the countless favors and all that you do. I love you, dad!