I watched our Jacuzzi get trucked away today. Jack loved that thing. One of his favorite activities was to get in, soak a bit and then call relatives in Minnesota during their cold season and brag about how awesome it was to be sitting in the jacuzzi, beer in hand with the palm trees lightly swaying above. When I had a reading with a medium in 2005, she relayed to me, "tell her it's like the jacuzzi". I knew then he was just fine.
Jack always preferred jacuzzing with me. But over the years, I got all girly and hated to be wet and cold (you have to get out of it at some point and get cold...). Anyway, since he's been gone I think I've been in it once. Lately I've been feeling motivated to make some changes. One day recently, it dawned on me that I could get rid of the jacuzzi and make a group seating/fire pit area. I figured I'd give the jacuzzi to anyone who wanted it and would come and haul it out of the back yard. I thought I'd post it on one of those community sites. Then this week, I had a plumber in to do some work. As he was leaving, I asked him if he knew anyone who wanted a free jacuzzi. He looked at me like I was crazy. He said, are you kidding, I am. Turns out he couldn't fit it in his yard, but a guy he works with could.
They came today to pick it up. Before doing the heavy lifting, we started chatting. Turns out he was in a motorcycle accident a year and a half ago. Lucky to be alive. Shattered his hip and thigh. Both are made of steel now. He said the jacuzzi would be an awesome thing to help with the soreness and pain. I shared the stories of Jack living with a bad knee all those years and then his motorcycle accident. Both he and Jack had done extensive research into L.A. ortho surgeons for joint replacement. What he had done was experimental so he chose someone other than Jack had, but weird coincidence. He still surfs, but doesn't motorcycle anymore. He said once you've experienced something like that, it's just not worth it.
I think the jacuzzi has found a good home and that makes me happy.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Dad and Love
I sat down on December 1st of last year and started my eulogy for Dad. I never finished it. This past week, I have had cause to re-visit it as he is not doing well. This may actually be the year of his death (or maybe not, given his ability to pull through time and again).
I think I started writing Dad's eulogy a long time ago. Most everyone knows that Dad drank. And drank. And drank. Alcohol has been the only real constant in his life other than his committed wife and kids. He always chose it over everything - including the love and support of his family. What most people don't understand is how hard it was to be his child. Growing up and in adulthood. I used to wish I had grown up in a different family. But Dad's first time in treatment when I was a junior in high school opened up a whole new world for me. I was introduced to the concept of fitting in for the first time in my life. Being with other families going through the same thing put my entire life on a whole new course. Facing Dad and being able to share my feelings and be heard was incredibly powerful. That experience impacted my college major, my career choices and my ability to communicate with people on a whole different level. It also set the course for how Dad and I would relate to one another in the future. My life experiences with Dad also played a major role in my first connection with Jack. Our first date was spent staying up until the wee hours of the morning sharing "war stories" about our Dad's. I no longer wish I had grown up in a different family.
What prompted me to sit down and write his eulogy? I called him on his 79th birthday. I had a 20 minute conversation with him while I was sitting in the car having just come from a hair appointment. As I ended the call, I said as I always do at the end of our conversations, "I love you Dad". Dad replied, "I love you too Heidi". It warmed my heart. Differently than it ever had. I sat in the car and pondered why. What was different? In that moment, I realized what Dad had taught me indirectly through his life struggles which in turn were the struggles of his family. You must take ownership for your own love. You cannot wait for someone to give it to you. You cannot wait until the conditions are just right in order to give your love to someone else. For so long, I wanted Dad to be the Dad I wanted and needed. I always knew what was best for him because it was best for me (or us), and I wasn't afraid to tell him what that was (or scream it at him, or tell him using my cold, higher than thou attitude). Over time, I worked very hard on healing. I also learned I had to either accept him or reject him. I could not change him no matter how hard I (or we) tried. I have tried very hard to accept him for who he was rather than judging him or expecting something of him he just couldn't give. Physical distance in my adult years did help me turn my attention to healing instead of dealing. But I could have remained angry, bitter and frustrated regardless of where I was living on the planet. Instead, I chose to put my time, energy and spirit towards understanding, feeling, healing and figuring out how to either love him or not.
In the end, Dad did teach me how to love. I just had to be open to accepting him fully just the way he was.
I think I started writing Dad's eulogy a long time ago. Most everyone knows that Dad drank. And drank. And drank. Alcohol has been the only real constant in his life other than his committed wife and kids. He always chose it over everything - including the love and support of his family. What most people don't understand is how hard it was to be his child. Growing up and in adulthood. I used to wish I had grown up in a different family. But Dad's first time in treatment when I was a junior in high school opened up a whole new world for me. I was introduced to the concept of fitting in for the first time in my life. Being with other families going through the same thing put my entire life on a whole new course. Facing Dad and being able to share my feelings and be heard was incredibly powerful. That experience impacted my college major, my career choices and my ability to communicate with people on a whole different level. It also set the course for how Dad and I would relate to one another in the future. My life experiences with Dad also played a major role in my first connection with Jack. Our first date was spent staying up until the wee hours of the morning sharing "war stories" about our Dad's. I no longer wish I had grown up in a different family.
What prompted me to sit down and write his eulogy? I called him on his 79th birthday. I had a 20 minute conversation with him while I was sitting in the car having just come from a hair appointment. As I ended the call, I said as I always do at the end of our conversations, "I love you Dad". Dad replied, "I love you too Heidi". It warmed my heart. Differently than it ever had. I sat in the car and pondered why. What was different? In that moment, I realized what Dad had taught me indirectly through his life struggles which in turn were the struggles of his family. You must take ownership for your own love. You cannot wait for someone to give it to you. You cannot wait until the conditions are just right in order to give your love to someone else. For so long, I wanted Dad to be the Dad I wanted and needed. I always knew what was best for him because it was best for me (or us), and I wasn't afraid to tell him what that was (or scream it at him, or tell him using my cold, higher than thou attitude). Over time, I worked very hard on healing. I also learned I had to either accept him or reject him. I could not change him no matter how hard I (or we) tried. I have tried very hard to accept him for who he was rather than judging him or expecting something of him he just couldn't give. Physical distance in my adult years did help me turn my attention to healing instead of dealing. But I could have remained angry, bitter and frustrated regardless of where I was living on the planet. Instead, I chose to put my time, energy and spirit towards understanding, feeling, healing and figuring out how to either love him or not.
In the end, Dad did teach me how to love. I just had to be open to accepting him fully just the way he was.
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