Dad’s Day

"On the other hand – she wore a glove."

One-liners he was good at.

With his walking stick (didn’t like anyone calling it a cane) he’d announce as he’d enter the barbershop with his stick raised pausing at the door frame, “This is a stick up!”

He’d amble in closer and look directly into the eyes of the guy cutting the hair and throw another one at him.

“Looks like you got rid of the lice!”

That was dad.

Every year on May 5 at 5:05 p.m. we gather together and raise a glass.

My younger brother and I were with him when he passed. He left with a smile on his face. At the cocktail hour of course.

Even though it’s been six years I remember it like yesterday.

The Priest at the nursing home where he’d spent the last few years of his life had handed me a parking permit earlier in the week.

It was dated May 5.

That day, my sister-in-law had showed up with split pea soup. Dad’s favourite.

We’d all been at his bedside for days.

Hours before he took his last breath a dear friend had shown up with a plate of deviled eggs. Another one of dad’s favourites.

His day had come. 

My face turned to a pout. I took the phone to notify the closest.

Sobbing uncontrollably I emptied my heart in the wake of his spirit.

Dad always knew what to say and when to say it.

He’d crack anyone up. Not everyone got it mind you.

The family enjoyed a meal and a toast tonight.

Our way of celebrating Dad’s day.

Dad Says

No use being mopey. Doesn’t get you far. I often think what dad went through on a daily basis. Without a complaint.

The stroke struck unexpectedly when he was 44 years-old. It left him paralyzed on his left side. Unable to speak. The speech returned over time but the mobility never did. He carried on.

Friday nights were social. The gents would drop round for a glass or two. Shoot the shit. Filled with jokes. Lots of lively laughter.

When it came to family, Saturday’s were so called the “Saturburger.” It was lunch somewhere with a burger - a round table. Anecdotes of dad pour through my head. Pitty the poor waitresses who had to serve him. 

“Would you like white or whole wheat sir?” The answer a sober, “Yes please.” Just to piss them off. The British sense of humour was seldom understood.

Not sure of the entire origin of the The Cheshire Cat but it seemed it was something he lived by. Mum framed it and gave it to all of us along with a few close friends. Dad was from Cheshire, England.

The Cheshire Cat

When this you see, remember me

And bear me in your mind.

Let all the World, say what they will.

Speak of me as you find.

It’s always in view. Wherever I’ve gone. Today as I grunted bent over backwards varnishing a boat one of his often repeated one-liners popped into my head:

Do what you like, but like what you do.

Okay, dad. Time to switch paths and take maybe a sharp left.

Health is Wealth

Last night I went to bed for a nap. Thought I’d wake up within 15 minutes so I could write my blog. Clearly I was sick. I didn’t wake up until a phone call at 6:20 a.m. this morning. Bummer.
Made me think about things though. Here I was rushing around to do the BC Bike Race www.bcbikerace.com where I maxed myself riding a mountain bike on the sweetest single track British Columbia has to offer. I don’t sleep much the final encore as I’m so wound I DID IT! All seven days of the Challenge Course. Then what do I do, I go straight home and back to work in the boatyard in 30 degree Celsius heat with not much sleep and thighs I know exist. So what happens… I get the summer cold. Haven’t had anything like that for I swear two years.
My famous anecdote rings in my head, time to slow down sit down and shut down. So I do, but then I don’t get up for ten hours.
Back to the headline. Health is wealth. No matter what we do in life, health is gold. Really, it’s our bread and butter. If we didn’t have it, there would be nothing.
My dad was 44 years old when he had his first stroke. I was nine years old and remember it like it was yesterday. One day he was dad, next day he was someone in a hospital bed with a bandage wrapped around his head and drool coming out the side of his mouth.
He survived paralyzed on his left side and lived a love filled life until his later seventies. But one thing always stuck with me. No matter how much money we had, it would never bring the feeling back in his left side. Or, get him out of that wheelchair in the latter years.
When I think about what I’m doing to survive because of financial pressures and the almighty buck, I need to remind myself about my dad. Like he used to say, your health is your wealth and without it you have nothing.
Time to rest up. Thanks, dad.

A Mars Bar a Day!

When Dad spent his final years in a nursing home, I’d often escort him to the cafeteria for lunch. Then outside for his after lunch smoke. I’d watch as he'd inhale an entire half then butt it out. He was ready for a rest.
Once upstairs and hoisted in his bed, he’d ask for a tilt and a chocolate bar. Mars bars were his favourite. He’d often claim that when he was young, he and his sister would walk a mile for a Mars bar.
Yesterday morning I was out for my ride with the TripleShot gang. I lagged due to lights which left a couple of us stragglers. No matter, we kept going on the road to the nearest coffee shop.
This fellow Paul whom I had met in the morning was choking down some java, squashing some time before his next meet-up and 80 kilometre ride. I asked him what he had for fuel.
Out of his cycling jersey back pocket he pulled out some square electrolyte gummies and funny enough, an unwrapped Mars bar. I got a chuckle. I’d heard of other cyclists chowing down on Mars bars on their long rides, but thought no more until Paul pulled out his.
What is it about Mars bars that do good for long road rides?
I asked him while explaining they were my dad’s favourite. He told me in England they deep fry the things!
So I checked out the good old Mars bar tonight on my way home. Turns out there’s a caramel, a slim and a 2-pack, besides the good old regular. I swallowed down two tonight. Got a big hill ride in the morning. Grateful I didn’t have to walk a mile for them!