Last year I wrote a post about my Dad. It was especially difficult for me, since that was the first anniversary of his death. At the time, I was still wracked with grief on a regular basis. I would find myself in a blue funk, not able to accomplish anything, while thinking about Dad. I missed him so much it hurt…physically.
Now it’s two years since Dad died, and I find my thoughts wandering to him more often, but with gentler feelings. With a new grandson, I find myself telling the stories that my Dad used to tell me to Little Man. He’s far too young to remember any of them, and he won’t really have a frame of reference for years, but telling the stories that my Dad told and stories about him keeps his memory alive. And talking about Dad helps me remember things about him that I want to pass along.
I find myself using his phrases all the time. You know those moments when you’re talking and your Dad (or Mom) comes out. Yeah, it’s happening constantly. My kids have taken to rolling their eyes, and have even accused me of channeling Grandpa to make a point. Honestly, I’m not doing it on purpose…it just sort of happens.
Many years ago, when my twin daughters were pretty young, they traveled with my folks to visit my sister’s family in Oregon. It was a long trip from Kansas, so they were there for a couple of weeks. Like the Hectic Family, my sister has a large brood. There are ten kids now, but back then, I think there were seven. Needless to say, anything you do with seven kids, two cousins, two parents, and two grandparents takes some planning and coordination.
In situations like that, my Dad tended to be the center of attention. I’m not really sure why, since he wasn’t the one doing the planning, nor the executing, of the family outings. Sure, he’d drive places, but as I mentioned last year, his sense of direction was non-existent, so someone else was responsible for the navigation.
But you can be assured that when folks were talking, Dad was in the thick of it. And he’d pepper the discussion with his homespun wisdom and silliness.
Apparently, after too many days together, he was starting to really lay it on thick. He’d tell stories that were so full of embellishment that no one knew where the truth ended and the fantasy began. He also liked to tell the kids to do impossible tasks, just to see how they would react. Sometimes he’d tell them outlandish statistics or anecdotes just to keep them on their toes.
So after more than a week of this, the kids finally hit upon a way to protect themselves from he incessant ribbing they would get if they bought the wrong story. When Dad would tell them something out of this world, they would respond “Whatever you say, Grandpa”. Now picture the scene, seven kids under the age of 12, all chanting “Whatever you say, Grandpa”, in unison. And note that this didn’t just happen in the privacy of the house. Or the car. Nope, they would respond that way at restaurants, the store, or wherever they were out in public. I’m sure it was quite a sight!
More importantly, it reflects the kind of guy he was. He was never offended when the kids would fire back at him with the same silliness that he dished out. In fact, the only offense he would take is if somebody didn’t play along.
So two years removed from my Dad’s death I’m sitting here with a wry grin on my face, recalling the kids interacting with their beloved Grandpa. I’ve been remembering all these little things about him that endeared him to many. From his stupid jokes, told over and over, to his long-winded stories that were embellished with each retelling, Dad was someone that everybody liked.
And that’s what I want to pass on to my grandkids. I want them to know that I’m not the only one who’s a total goof. As I like to say, “The nut doesn’t fall far from the tree”, and I surely didn’t fall far from the tree of my Dad.
Honestly, I’m really looking forward to the day that I get the response, “Whatever you say, Grandpa”. When that happens I’ll know that I’ve done him proud!
Both your posts about your dad show just how deeply you loved him. He sounds like a truly wonderful man and if you turn out to be even half the Granpa he was you will be a brilliant one!
Thanks for linking up with #MultipleMadness xxx