HOW DO YOU DEAL?
By Jeana Esser Happy Belated Father's Day,
George Esser, my daddy….
I had something totally different in mind for this month's column but when push came to shove, and with deadline approaching, my story just did not come together as planned. It happens, though frustrating it was. Perhaps it will next time. I will just file this under "Save for Later". I have often found in my writing experience that more times than not, a good impetus for my column will fall into my lap with little or no warning. That is usually how I roll and as luck would have it, that is what happened today, twice.
Father's Day does not usually hold a lot of merit for me these days. I lost my father in January of 1989 and I have missed him ever since but sometimes a simple gesture or experience can jump start a whole lot of emotion and longing for a loved one and in this particular instance that loved one was my father. That happened to me today.
Like I said earlier , I had not really given much thought to Father's Day which is about a week away. Now by the time you (my readers) get wind of this column it will by July, but I am writing in the present and I don't care that Father's Day will have already passed. Let's just call this a belated Father's Day homage and leave it at that.
I was in line at a local grocery store when I was standing behind a woman, probably in her 3o's, who had a bouquet of flowers, a couple of steaks, and a six pack of beer in her cart. I smiled, nodded and couldn't help but automatically assume that she was entertaining someone, probably a boyfriend. I smiled and said, " Looks like a pleasant evening indeed." She replied, "yeah, I'm celebrating Father's Day early with my dad". I smiled again and felt a bit of a lump in my throat…..and I felt a tear starting to form. "I haven't spoken to him in over twenty years. We made up and now we are hanging out and having dinner." My heart sank as I watched her make her purchase. My jaw and my heart were on the ground and suddenly I knew what I was going to write about.
So I get home and my boyfriend was talking on the telephone. He must have been on the phone chatting it up for about half an hour. As his conversation was coming to a halt he concluded with , "love ya Dad, we'll see you at Christmas". I was hit with a double whammy. Knock me down with a feather, but the gods were making references to dads. My message was clear. I had this sudden urge to pay homage to my dad, George M. Esser who left this world way too early. I was a child of divorce and did not spend as much time with father as I probably should have. I realize that now. I realized it a little too late and it has hurt ever since. I guess I sort of blamed him for the divorce, but I later learned that it was not his fault at all. It takes two people to wreck a marriage, usually. My mother had a major hand in it but I was a "momma's girl" and took her side in the early years. I later came to my senses but I should have done it earlier. After he died, all I had left of him besides many great memories, were pictures that he had taken , some of he and my mother's travels through Europe and other parts, and some of me. Suddenly the floodgates opened up and I found myself rummaging through every box of pictures I could find. There were slides and old sepia toned photographs with the scalloped edges. There was a picture of him with John Glen (yes, the astronaut and Senator). Then I found a picture of my dad and me taken in Destin, Florida building a sandcastle on the beach. I wanted to crawl into that frame and give him a great big hug and have just a few minutes to relive that day.
As an artist, I often use several of these photographs as inspiration for many of my paintings. Several notable characters have found their way from my dad's photographs to my canvas. I have so many wonderful memories of my dad. I keep wondering what I would say in a letter if I were to write one to him. So here it is……I hope maybe some angel somewhere will deliver this to him OR maybe he is looking over my shoulder as I write this. Happy Father's Day to my dad, George, and to dads everywhere. Don't let too much time pass if you haven't spoken to your dad. I wish I could call my dad on the telephone.
Dear Dad,
Today I was really reminded of you, not that I am not reminded of you on other days, but today was rather cosmic in that respect. There were a lot of references to Dads that I just could not overlook. So, given that, I am giving you my heart once again and hope that wherever you are, you will know how much I love and miss you. I would give almost anything to be sitting at the beach with you making sand castles or laughing endlessly while you made fart noises with your armpits. Watch over me please……I could really use some of your insight. Mom always said that I was a lot like you. I'm stubborn and silly. Every time I watch The Rockford Files I think of you. Every time I hear Don McLean "American Pie", I think of you (from the 8 track player you had in the Caprice Classic). I remember when you tried to teach me fractions with all those broken noodles. I also remember when we took our first airplane trip to California and you flirted with the stewardess and let me have my first drink. There is more. Finally, with tears in my eye, I keep reminding myself of the one thing you said to me that always sticks in my mind. "Don't sweat the small stuff". I'm still working on it Dad. I love you now and I always will……
"Sport "(one of my nicknames from him)
*********If you have a dad that you have not spoken to for years, for whatever reason, please reach out to him. He will not always be around.
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