On Father’s Day, Dad, and Friendship

Dad’s not been with us for 16 months.

movie star dadLast year I wrote about car trips with mom and dad and crossing the bridge. I talk to him, look for him in darkened rooms, hear his voice in silence, see his smile and twinkling eyes. Dad had twinkling brown eyes. That one week he rebounded, all his senses came alive.

Tuesday night he’d have asked what assignment I was working on and if other people would be with me, and he’d double-check to make sure he had my cell phone number.

He and mom would ask me to call them.

Dad wasn’t here Wednesday when I put the requisite heavy shoes into my car. Mom asked me to call her, and I did, several times, from under the Tappan Zee Bridge. She’s 88, bless her, and will have a new hip within a few days. Last year she had a partial knee replacement, and by November I’d hoped to take her to see the bridge project from RiverWalk Park and the Tarrytown viewing area.

She really wanted to see the crane and settled for seeing it from the car.

Dad would be smiling when I got home and showed him pictures of what I was looking at as it happened. I wrote in an earlier post he and mom married two months before the bridge opened.

What I really want to write about is friendship.

Mom had a group of friends since childhood and keeps in touch with Laura, who lives in California. They talk at least once a week; the others passed away.

Dad had friends from childhood and from the Army; his two best buddies were Julie and Bernie. When Bernie died in October 2004, dad took it hard; the following month he had a stroke, which cause his health to decline. Julie’s death in 2010 also hit him hard.

I love you, dad. I miss you so much it hurts.

The loss of friendship when one person walks away is something else.

One of my friends has been slowly backing away and creating distance between us in various ways. Maybe this is what happens when one person needs a change.

My friend supported me during my dad’s sickness and passing and was there for me that terrible weekend. Dad passed away the day before the last transit task force meeting; imagine my attention span that day. I wrote about him, the day, in several blog posts.

Dad and mom encouraged me to write when I felt stuck in a career. He’d say, “Go for it,” as he did when he faced challenges.

There is much I want to write and say, and I may not have the chance to tell this person. I love my friends, and I appreciate his help and the time we did spend together. Dad would tell me to keep an open heart. He always did, and so will I.

I’d like to know what you think.

Copyright © Janie Rosman and Kaleidoscope Eyes 2015

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