My Father

“Father! – to God himself we cannot give a holier name.” ~ William Wordsworth

My father has been helping me fix up a few things at the house over the past few weekends. The ride there is about forty minutes. I’m sure in hindsight these will be some of the most special times of my life. When we get into the car, we are not yet tired and talk about interesting topics, our mother, life in general, world politics, his life, real estate, anything and everything. Yesterday I noticed that I was driving very slow on the highway. My foot must have been light on the accelerator subconsciously. The trip back is usually quiet.

He’s changed since we lost our mother. He forgets things like the one time he forgot his keys in my car, and then we drove back to the house, looked everywhere and then finally found the keys in the car. He’s also more forgiving toward people. Today on NPR I heard Anne Roiphe on Life After Love which explained some of what he’s been going through. It must be really difficult for him.

We work well together. I don’t know if that’s from helping him build a house when I was ten or eleven or if it’s because we think alike. We often split the jobs but sometimes we do a task together and that’s when I realize over and over that no other person in the world can work with me the same way he does. It’s as if he can see my train of thought before I have it. I don’t know if he feels the same way.

Last night I was going through some old photos that he had brought back from Armenia. In the box, there were pictures of him and my mother when they were our age. It was obvious from those old black and white photos lacking focus and clarity how much they had loved each other. These photos made it crystal clear yet again that nothing lasts forever. So for now, I’ll continue enjoying my ride with my father and when we finish this project, maybe I can think of something else as if subconsciously trying to do what I said about Parents.

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