Remembering a Dad...
2020 has been a year of immense challenges for many of us. Most days, I wake up with a sense of wonder about what could possibly happen next. In April, near the beginning of this years' pandemic craze, I got a call that I had been dreading for a long time. The minute I heard my brother-in-law's voice I knew…my Dad had passed. But it's not that I was expecting it. Even though my Dad had turned 92 barely a month prior, he was still a going concern. My son and I had been up to visit for his birthday and took him out for dinner just a month before.
He was still independent, living
in the home he built 50 years ago, driving his car, making plans for the
future. But I guess it was his time to go. It's now some 8 months later, which
at times feels like eons, and also like yesterday, that he was here. He left his mark and gave us much to process
and think about as we mourn the loss.
Covid-19 has taken a lot from us. We don't believe it had anything to do
with my Dads' death, but it certainly has robbed us of a "normal"
grieving process. In the 8 months since
his passing, I have yet to hug my sister. We have spent considerable time
together, socially distanced, but at least able to share our feelings and
memories. We have been robbed of having a Celebration of Life where friends,
family, and the community could be together to share their experiences and
memories. My kids struggled to comprehend why things had to be this way. Instead, we have had to be creative and
patient and accept the way things unroll and come back together.
Covid did give me one thing, time to be in Haliburton at my Dad's place. Because the schools shut down after March Break, I was laid off work and became a 'stay at home Dad' again until school resumed. Consequently, we had time to go back up to the old homestead to be where he had spent the past 50 years.
My kids got to have a summer, where I had my summers as a
kid. Yes, much of the time was spent
working. The property had become cluttered and neglected as my Dad spent so
much of his last 10+ years caring for my Mom. She had become increasingly
infirm until her passing in 2019. Perhaps this was my way to mourn and work
through my feelings and memories of him.
As a kid, I spent a great deal of time with my Dad; he was in many ways ahead of his time. He was very much a "hands-on" Dad. I was pretty much welcome to go where ever he went. We were fortunate that his workplace, though a blue-collar job, was a kid-friendly place. So from a young age, I spent time "working" on snowmobiles, chainsaws, motorcycles, ATVs, boats, and pretty much anything mechanical or building decks, garages, furniture, etc. I was the designated wrench passer and tester. Much to my Mother's shock, I started driving a snowmobile on my own at 6 years of age. Not long after this, I was out for an entire day, following the groomers on the trails on a snowy P.A. day. The outdoors was perhaps my Dad's greatest love, after his family. -30C didn't discourage him from a day out in the bush on his beloved "Alpine" groomer.
When he was in his 60's, I asked him why he was fighting the elements outdoors 5 days a week instead of driving the big heated full-sized groomer. He replied that the big machine was boring and unchallenging. In the summer, we spent many days zipping around the Haliburton Forest's back roads in the old Grey Jeep, roof off & windshield laid flat on the hood, so we got the full effect! Yes, we were working, but magically a couple of fishing rods would appear at lunchtime as we conveniently parked beside a fishing hole he had discovered. These occurrences weren't rare; they were regular occurrences.
We were never wealthy; riches eluded him and us. But we
never lacked for the essentials and especially time and experiences. I took so
much of this for granted as a kid; I thought every Dad must have a little kid
as his co-pilot day in and day out. While much of it was a part of working,
those times were invaluable. I learned many valuable lessons and skills, like handling
a hammer, power saw, and wrench. But also that it was okay to stop in the
middle of the day and go for a swim in a lake or take a few casts with a
fishing rod.
My Dad came across as a pretty straight forward guy, but in
fact, he was far from simple and easy to read. He was always full of surprises
and contradictions. For example, he was not a fan of fast-food restaurants that
didn't provide proper plates and cutlery, but it was perfectly okay to roast a
sandwich over an open fire, on a branch cut from a tree, 30 km back in the
bush. He could be quiet and reserved and the next minute let loose a 10-minute
rant about politics to anybody that would listen.
He was born in 1928 on Berlin's outskirts; he was only 17 when the 2nd world war ended. He saw things no teenager should have to see and survived being captured by Russian soldiers that were marching prisoners back to Russia.
His older
brother died in the war, of pneumonia, as a soldier. Dad's draft papers arrived
near the end of the war; his father put them back in the mailbox "addressee
unknown," and before it could be returned, the war was over. This delay
tactic may have saved his life. He didn't
like to talk about this horrific time in his life, though he said the
memories/nightmares about this time returned in his last years. He always reminded us of the horrors and
senseless of war.
In many ways, he was remarkable, and given what he went
through in his youth, it was an accomplishment to actually live a "normal"
life as a husband and parent. He met my
Mother, who was seven years his junior, and the two would embark on many
adventures, ultimately moving to Canada in 1957 a mere month after getting
married. They were married for 62 years until my Mom's death in 2019. They landed
in Halifax in March of 1957. He was not
to return to Germany for over 30 years. Canada was home, and he was an
immensely proud Canadian citizen. After
a dozen years in Toronto, they decided to "get out of Dodge" and
purchased property in Haliburton, near the Gull River. Together with their best
friends, the Wolms, they built houses together and moved permanently to
Haliburton in 1969. He would live here
until his death in April.
I don't want to leave the impression that he was a saint or that
He loved his kids and grandkids immensely. I think he had pretty much given up on me, providing him with grandkids, but when my kids arrived, it was clear that he saw them as a huge gift.
It was the 2nd time around bonus, as my sister had given him two grandchildren 20+ years prior. I am very grateful that my kids spent time with him, experienced his humour, patience, creativity, and adventurous side. When we visited, it was not long before he would be up and gone, and then we would hear the tractor roar, and off he went with the kids to do "work" outside. Or build snow forts in the wintertime. This is one of the ways he demonstrated his love for us, he was never able to verbalize those words, but he showed us with his time and actions, day in and day out.
As my life got busier with a young family living in
Mississauga, It was difficult to spend much time with him in the last decade.
With my Mother's health fragile for the last ten + years, our visits tended to
be briefer and briefer. The times I was able to spend with him were golden. He
aged with grace and continued to teach me until the end.
Over the spring, summer, and fall, as we worked without him
to clean up and restore the house to what it once had been, there were countless
memory trigger points. Grief and gratitude come at the strangest, most
unpredictable moments. His touch was everywhere on that property. In
some ways, it made me smile and also reminded me of how he frustrated me with
some of his "McGyver" traits.
Never the less he leaves a legacy.
And he leaves large shoes to fill.
Now the house is sold, and a young man is starting a new journey there.
It marks the closing of a big chapter in our lives. It is hard to believe he
won't be with us this Christmas, waiting outside for us to come down the
driveway, snow shovel in hand. But we will remember him and smile when we do…as
he is still all around us. Thanks for everything
Dad…
