Today is the
day before Father’s Day, and I wanted to have something special this year to
give Dad, who is now 89 years old. But
when you are 89 years old and proclaim that you already have everything you
need, then knowing what to give can become a challenge.
This
morning, as I did my 3-mile run through the neighborhood, I pondered what I was
going to do for Dad to honor his day. Dad
was never especially fond of “things” to begin with, and material goods really
hold no value for him anymore. I think
that this comes as a result of a combination of age and wisdom, but it sure does
make it hard to come up with the perfect gift.
So my focus of my run was to create an idea for a gift that I could
deliver to him tomorrow. As my body
covered three short miles, my mind wandered across the universe. These are always the best kinds of runs.
Dad only
ever had a very small and select group of friends, all acquired over 60 years
ago, but they were all very special friends.
At this point, he has outlived almost all of them, and the couple that
remain are in very poor health. He has
no interest in acquiring new ones at this point in his life. But he treasures family more than ever. Family is about all he outwardly has any
more, and they bring him more happiness than anything else in his life.
Dad is still
as active as his 89 year old mind and body allow, which is really quite a
bit. His likes his quiet time, enjoys
watching sports on TV, and he enjoys reading.
He is also still a very good bridge player, and plays most weeks at
least once. He still spends time at the
gym nearly every day, walking a couple of miles three or four times a week,
working with weights, and doing exercises in the pool after a nice sauna. You would not know he is soon to be a nonagenarian if you ever met him.
Two things that Dad gets particular joy
from as things relate to me is when I am running, and when I am writing. I used to do a lot of both. Dad knows that I am at my absolute best when
running and writing are both taking place in my life, so when I am doing both,
it gives him great joy. Over the past couple of years, I have
struggled with both my running and writing, either due to physical limitations,
or attitude, or in some cases both.
Only very recently, my running has found
a weak pulse, and though I am hardly a regular runner again quite yet, I am
actively working on that as a long term goal, and am starting to at least think
like a runner again. But the writing has
been the even bigger obstacle. I have
not written anything worthwhile in a year or longer, and Dad will still ask
occasionally when I am going to start writing again. When he asks, I just shrug and tell him I don’t
know, and then I feel bad because I know how much joy it would bring him to see
me writing again. I have to be moved to
write, and nothing moves me like when I am running. So this morning, since I was running anyway, I
concentrated on what I could come up with to write, with the hope of massaging
the thoughts into the words that I will have to hand him tomorrow morning. What
you are reading is what I will hand him tomorrow.
Although I am seeing Dad tomorrow for
Father’s Day, I also saw him today. Dad
is a religious man, and every Saturday morning, almost without fail, he goes to
synagogue. This is another activity that
gives him great joy. I thought it would
be a nice way to start the Father’s Day weekend to accompany him this morning. So
after my run, I drove over and accompanied him at the morning services, and
then Kelli came by after, and we all had lunch with him and Mom. I also told him I would be over early
tomorrow so we could have a nice walk together.
This is something we do far too infrequently these past few years,
mainly due to my extremely busy schedule and lack of available time when we can
do it. In both of our younger day, we
used to run, and race together, quite often.
It was the one special activity that the two of us had that was ours and
ours alone. Those runs were almost
sacred and helped create a bond that nothing since we started running together
can break. It is one of the things in my
life I am most thankful for.
In the back of my mind, I always knew
that there would be a time that running would evolving into walking. But that did not happen until dad was in his
mid-70’s. Yes, the running got slower
over the years, but the meaningfulness of the runs never changed. Even as running shifted over to walking, each
time doing it together carried the same significance.
So tomorrow morning, after my 3-mile run,
I will once again head over to Dad’s, hand what you are reading now to him, and
then we will go on a 2-mile walk. Then I will write about that later in the
day. And his Father’s day gift will have
been given.
Happy Father’s Day Dad. I love you.
Michael
