26th
Missing My Dad
I miss my dad. I don’t miss him every day or in all situations, but there are times when I wish I could pick up the phone and call him. Maybe that’s because he’d always answered every one of my questions to my satisfaction. He was honest, direct and if I didn’t understand, he’d come around from a different angle until I did.
I remember the semester I was returning to college after missing several years while raising children. I made the gargantuan mistake of tackling Calculus that first semester, when I should have waited a while and taken something simpler first, so my brain cells would have some time to warm up.
One day, I brought my homework and textbook over to dad, including my perplexed expression to ask for help understanding what I was supposed to be doing. My father spent an hour, or however long it took, coming at me from every direction until I comprehended the principle behind the assignment, which for him was even more important than just finishing a few homework problems.
Well, I am not taking Calculus this semester, in fact, I am not officially in college either, but I still have life homework from time to time, and I have lots of questions; the kind that can’t be ‘Googled’. I’d like to call him and say, “Hi, dad, it’s me. I’m coming over with a few questions.” He’d say, “Great.” (Then he’d hang up without saying good-bye, which was always confusing to me, but I never remembered to ask him about that, so I guess the fault of my persistent ignorance is mine alone.) Then we’d talk and I’d give up my perplexed expression, as he’d patiently come around yet another angle on the current topic, until I reached satisfactory comprehension of the principle behind the issue. Then we’d go and see what my mom was cooking.
That is one way that I miss my dad.
Written on March 31, 2010
