Chasing Away Monsters Without Dad

When I was about seven years old, I would spend hours looking out my bedroom window before bedtime until I saw them, the monsters in the trees that I was sure were after me. I would scream for my father who would rouse from his sleep to comfort and reassure me that I just saw branches moving in the wind. When that wasn’t enough, he would tell me he had chased the monsters away until I drifted off in slumber. After many nights of not getting enough sleep and keeping everyone awake. I was not allowed to look out the window at night and the shade was pulled all the way down. Still, it is memory that resonates with me when I look at trees at night.

My dad was nineteen and my mom was twenty when they got married. A year later I was born, my brother two years after me and my sister a year after that. They had three kids before the age of twenty-five. They worked hard and struggled financially yet we never felt denied. Birthdays were always a big celebration in our house growing up particularly for my dad. He loved his Gemini birthday on June 20th which always fell on or near Father’s Day every year. Instead of feeling cheated he said he was “extra special” and jokingly stated it was a two-gift minimum to attend his birthday party every year. He would start counting down the shopping days we had starting January 1st which would always make us smile.

When my mom passed the week before Mother’s Day in 2015, I knew that day would always bring a wave of grief every year probably for the rest of my life. Then came June 20th, 2021, my dad’s birthday, which was also Father’s Day that year. A celebration was planned at my house. Cake was in the refrigerator. Gifts were wrapped. Unfortunately, the cake would never be eaten, and the gifts would never be opened, instead they would later be donated.

I found him in his recliner, not able to speak though his eyes were open. He passed at the hospital three days later. He had been struggling with heart and kidney failure, but we were still hoping for one more birthday/Father’s Day celebration, one more extra special week for him.

My dad was not a social butterfly, yet those who knew him loved his dry sense of humor which I believe I inherited. He loved history and baseball. He was an avid reader that he passed on to all of his kids. His small apartment was filled with books. After sorting out which ones each one of us wanted, we donated boxes and boxes to local libraries. He also focused his attention always on his family. He was always available for a ride, a call or funny anecdote.

Grief can be such a rollercoaster. I think when the anniversary of his passing happened last year, now centered around Father’s Day and his birthday, I was in a better place. This year not so much. I should also say we lost our dog, Freedom last month and I so badly wanted to call my dad to chase away the pain, the monsters, the grief. At dad’s funeral the priest spoke of the secondary grief of losing the last parent. I do think there is something to that as well. It is like you really are here alone to manage every day.

If you are still lucky enough to have your parents or someone that has been like a parent or someone who just loves you for who you are. Visit them, call them, treasure them.

To me both Mother’s Day and Father’s Day can bring up all pain of losing them both, yet there is a such a strong sense of remembrance that is comforting, like a gift. like something more, something extra.