First Thanksgiving without you, Dad. It was peaceful for me this year. Went to my in-laws. Watched some football.
As you may imagine, I thought back about past Thanksgivings. I thought of .... well, raking leaves.
I remember standing in a mountain of wet leaves. Putting them out to the curb. A patient of yours stopped by with a big pick-up truck and asked if he could haul them away for you. Dana and I were so impatient to go in and watch some of the noon football game, yet, here we were stuffing leaves in a dingy old pick up truck, wet and cold.
You enjoyed raking leaves, I know. For you, it was a chance to get outside, breathe the fresh Autumn air. Get some mild excercise. It cleared your mind from your never ending thoughts of your patients and their problems.
I never enjoyed these times, I have to admit that. I think you suspected as well. Our faces must have looked awefully dejected. I longed for the day you would tell Dana and me that you would like to throw a football around, or go to a baseball game. Although you did take us to two football games (one I distinctly remember OJ Simpson trotting on to the field) we knew that you didn't enjoy it.
So there it is, I hated raking leaves, but Dad, that doesn't mean a damn thing. I came to understand why you did it. And I also deeply understand that while most fathers may have played ball with their sons, you were more concerned about providing a future for us. You were driven, and raking leaves was another way to bend your will to make our yard a more pleasant place to look at. I don't think I will ever enjoy raking leaves, and I often just shuffle them into the bushes rather than put them out to the curb. That is okay, and I understand, and I love you for all the things you did do for me. And that makes all the difference in the world.
I never enjoyed these times, I have to admit that. I think you suspected as well. Our faces must have looked awefully dejected. I longed for the day you would tell Dana and me that you would like to throw a football around, or go to a baseball game. Although you did take us to two football games (one I distinctly remember OJ Simpson trotting on to the field) we knew that you didn't enjoy it.
So there it is, I hated raking leaves, but Dad, that doesn't mean a damn thing. I came to understand why you did it. And I also deeply understand that while most fathers may have played ball with their sons, you were more concerned about providing a future for us. You were driven, and raking leaves was another way to bend your will to make our yard a more pleasant place to look at. I don't think I will ever enjoy raking leaves, and I often just shuffle them into the bushes rather than put them out to the curb. That is okay, and I understand, and I love you for all the things you did do for me. And that makes all the difference in the world.
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