We celebrated my dad’s 62nd birthday yesterday and I am left with a few sad reflections on the day. The week before, when asked what he wanted for his birthday, he told us he could use some slacks for playing golf. I bought a couple pair of slacks, wrapped ‘em, got a touching card, etc. and headed up to my sister’s. Near the end of the night we have the cake and he unwraps his slacks and he is appreciative. He then unwraps the present from my sister’s family … three pairs of jeans. So, for my dad’s 62nd birthday, he got five pairs of pants. Five pairs of pants. It kept lingering there in my head the whole drive home … five pairs of pants.
I thought about earlier events that day as I drove back home. I remember seeing my dad’s animated face as got out of his chair to illustrate the unusual golf swing technique of Charles Barkley. And as he was demonstrating it my mother got up and stood between us (in front of him) and started demonstrating it too … as if I needed greater authenticity on the exact swing technique. I think what really happened was that they both watch the same news reports and have the same stories to tell and there was only one of me to be interested at the time. My dad’s animated, joyful face went slack and defeated-like as he turned around without a word and went to play basketball with his grandkids. He no longer argues with her as I was accustomed to growing up. The two of them always rubbing each other the wrong way and making a scene over small things others wouldn’t have even noticed. But now, he doesn’t even argue anymore and I don’t see it as “better” – frankly, it made me even sadder for the both of them.
I dropped the ball … and not just a week or so ago … I dropped the ball years ago when I started taking my parents for granted. I dropped the ball when I assumed they would be satisfied with whatever time my family gave them when it was convenient for us. I dropped the ball when I lost sight of what excites my mom or dad and would put genuine joy on their face. The thing is, I love my parents and I think they know that. But my actions don’t really show it and when all is said and done, aren’t actions the real measure of a man? I realized that a card on birthdays or father’s day or mother’s day is not enough to say you love them and that they are great. I need to reconnect with my parents while I still have them. I need them to know the real me and I need to know the real them. I want to know in my heart that if my dad asks for shoes next year what he will really appreciate instead is a day out on the golf course with me telling bawdy jokes. I want to know where/if my mother still has joy in her life. She used to be my confidant during my troubled teenage years and I want to be that for her if she needs it now. Perhaps instead of buying her books this year, I’ll read the same books she likes and have lunch with her to talk about them.
I thought about earlier events that day as I drove back home. I remember seeing my dad’s animated face as got out of his chair to illustrate the unusual golf swing technique of Charles Barkley. And as he was demonstrating it my mother got up and stood between us (in front of him) and started demonstrating it too … as if I needed greater authenticity on the exact swing technique. I think what really happened was that they both watch the same news reports and have the same stories to tell and there was only one of me to be interested at the time. My dad’s animated, joyful face went slack and defeated-like as he turned around without a word and went to play basketball with his grandkids. He no longer argues with her as I was accustomed to growing up. The two of them always rubbing each other the wrong way and making a scene over small things others wouldn’t have even noticed. But now, he doesn’t even argue anymore and I don’t see it as “better” – frankly, it made me even sadder for the both of them.I’m sad for my parents because they are both incredible individuals. They both deserve happiness but I don’t see it in them. I keep coming back to the five pairs of pants. I was left thinking about something Cherie @ Blog THIS Mom quoted just recently: “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try some times … you get what you need!” [Rolling Stones … and I didn’t look it up so I’m sorry if it quoted it wrong] What is “want” and what is “need” anyway? My dad said he wanted pants for his birthday … or did he say he “needed” pants … were we really listening? If somebody “needs” something in this context, should you really strive to deliver on such a mundane desire? My father has the time and money to get slacks. He is not going without if we don’t buy him slacks. Shouldn’t we look past what somebody “needs” for a birthday wish and instead give them what we think they may really “want” instead?
I dropped the ball … and not just a week or so ago … I dropped the ball years ago when I started taking my parents for granted. I dropped the ball when I assumed they would be satisfied with whatever time my family gave them when it was convenient for us. I dropped the ball when I lost sight of what excites my mom or dad and would put genuine joy on their face. The thing is, I love my parents and I think they know that. But my actions don’t really show it and when all is said and done, aren’t actions the real measure of a man? I realized that a card on birthdays or father’s day or mother’s day is not enough to say you love them and that they are great. I need to reconnect with my parents while I still have them. I need them to know the real me and I need to know the real them. I want to know in my heart that if my dad asks for shoes next year what he will really appreciate instead is a day out on the golf course with me telling bawdy jokes. I want to know where/if my mother still has joy in her life. She used to be my confidant during my troubled teenage years and I want to be that for her if she needs it now. Perhaps instead of buying her books this year, I’ll read the same books she likes and have lunch with her to talk about them. 
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