Pre Fathers Day

So Father's Day isnt for another week. But its a tough week for me. I am a father. So that rocks. I get to celebrate with my wife and kids. But I don't have a father to celebrate with. So that blows.

I was sitting at my son's hockey lesson tonight and My Immortal came on the radio. It makes me think of my dad. I dont know why. Yes, I do. The lyrics. So the chorus is about wiping away someone's tears, fighting away fears, holding someone's hand. That was me.

You see, my dad had Parkinson's disease. Diagnosed at 35. Do you know what its like growing up in a house where your dad shook constantly? Okay, so maybe not constantly. A lot? He coached my soccer teams and would shake when we played. I remember kids on the team making fun of him. I didn't know why he did it. So, I went along with it. Shame on me.

I remember talking to my dad about it at 13. Would I get it? Is it contagious? No? No? Wheh. I dodged a bullet. (Of course, now I know I didn't, but I was 13, an idiot (some things never change) and didn't know better.) I know I hurt his feelings then. I am sorry for that.

I remember my wedding day. He had to change his medication schedule because the one thing he wanted to do was walk me down the aisle. He did. Don't laugh. It was sweet.

I remember my law school graduation. He stood up after (he used a wheelchair when he couldn't walk) and shook my hand. Of course, that was the last time I saw him in person. Fucking graduation sucks.

I also remember going to my parents house when I was in college. "Jon, can you fix the computer?" "Jon, can you come here?" "Jon, bring me a tissue." I would have to wipe his mouth when he drooled. I would have to pick him up off the bed and walk him to the bathroom. I would have to help him into and out of his wheelchair. I would bring him a urinal at night so he could go to the bathroom.

Now I sit here 6 days from Fathers Day. Its bittersweet. I get to hang out with my kids. But I dont get to send a card to my dad. I dont get to call him. I dont get to wipe his mouth or pick him up or fix his computer or take him to the bathroom.

I wonder when it will be my time to say to my boys take me to the bathroom.....get me a tissue so you can wipe my mouth.....bring me a drink.........help me get out of bed........that time will come. In the meantime, I will spend part of the next week thinking back on those memories, remembering the good times (Wednesday nights at Del Mar beach with him and his friends, them sitting on the beach drinking beers and eating burgers, me in the ocean, boogie boarding), and the bad times. I will try to remember the good times more than the bad times. But I will remember all of the times.

I love you dad!