Thank you Mary

I woke in a foul mood from a Sunday-afternoon, unplanned cat-nap on the couch. I overheard my nine year old daughter asking my wife if she'd come play on the trampoline with her. My wife, awsome wife that she is, said sure, you go out now and when I'm done straightening and paying bills I'll come out and join you. 

Like I said, I was in a foul mood. My back hurt, chores were still undone, Monday was already looming and the Sunday doldrums were already strangling me. Then I did the unexpected. I joined Mary on the trampoline! She was pleasantly surprised and said dad are you really coming over here to jump with me? We played a couple classics like break the egg, log roll, and dead lady dead lady and before long I was huffing and puffing and played dead man dead man and on the count of five I didn't come alive. As Mary jumped around me it dawned on me how truly lucky I was to be alive. I invited her to lay down with me for a rest and thanked her for getting her old man out here to play a little bit, told her I was in a pretty grumpy mood. She said, "I know." Ouch. 

I asked her if she ever heard of Mindfulness. I told her being mindful was about being present in the moment. About being in the moment. Engaged, aware, and open, while at the same time attentive, focused and able. I asked her if she'd join me in a Mindfulness exercise I had recently learned. As we lay side by side on the trampoline on a brilliant Fall afternoon we closed our eyes and we discussed what each of our five senses were trying to tell us. 

We closed our eyes and started with what we were hearing. Wind chimes way over at the neighbors, birds, a car driving by, a distant dog barking and then it became real quiet and she said I hear the wind blowing in the trees. I asked her what she could smell and she said she could smell the leaves. I asked her what she tasted and she said her mouth. I asked her what a mouth tastes like and she said hers tasted like the Lemmon tea and honey Mom had made her for her sore throat. Yum. Told her I tasted my bad breath, yuck. I asked her what she felt and she said the trampoline pushing up against her. She said they had just done something like this in dance class. We all laid down and the teacher said relax. Feel your feet melt into the ground, now your legs and back-side. Feel them pressing against the floor, now feel them melt into the floor. Now your back, and shoulders let them relax. Now feel your head. Feel the weight of your head against the floor. Now as you relax let the stress flow out of your head and feel it lighten. Feel the muscles in your face and neck loosen and relax. Let the stress flow out of your shoulders and back and feel yourself get lighter. Let your legs and feet become light like a feather. Feel the tension and stress blow away like the breeze. Feel yourself floating on the floor. Now wiggle your toes and feet and flex and stretch the muscles in your legs and back. Open and close your hands and reach up into the sky. Roll your head slowly back and forth and up and down. Take a deep breath in. Let it out and slowly open your eyes. Now what do you feel Dad? I feel wow. I see wow. I opened my eyes and everything looked different. Everything looked brilliant. Crisp. New.

I asked what she saw. She said the sky is so blue and the leaves are so gold and the sun is so bright and the shade is so dark. I see Mom. I see her too babe and she is so beautiful. Suzy said what's going on out here. And I said Mary just made me see better! You have got to try this. So we repeated the Mindfulness Dance Class Relaxation Exercises and to my surprise the sky got even bluer, the leaves got even more golden and the sun even more bright! They started jumping and I went in to get Mary a water bottle, but came back out with her two sisters! All five of us on the tramp and two out of three of the dogs. Tyler would have jumped up too, but he's getting too old for such nonsense. He was witness, however, to what I will always remember as a little heaven on earth. As close to perfect as I will ever be. 

Dear Dad,

Sorry it's been so long since I have written you. I'm sure you'll forgive me, as you know I've been busy with parenting and working and wrestling with life and all its challenges. I used to love getting a letter from you with that beautifully readable script and command of the written language that was always so clear and confident and understandable. I loved how you'd sign it, DDD. 

Come to think of it I don't ever remember writing you. I don't even remember talking with you directly on the phone, that was Mom's department. It makes me wonder how cool it would have been if we had email back then. You would have been a voracious emailer. Even better - text. God I wish I could text you. I wonder if your sarcasm would translate in text. Probably. You were always so painfully good at it. 

Anyway, I am writing to thank you. Thank you for trying so hard with me. I know I was quite difficult growing up. Now that I have three of my own I can't imagine the balls it took to have a fourth. I know there was always that ongoing joke that I was a mistake, but I know sarcasm when I hear it. If I had a fourth kid and he was like me I would be with you by now. Fortunately, your three grand daughters are healthy and so smart and relatively happy most of the time. Kayla is 15 now. A sophomore in HS with a Learners permit and a lead foot (but, don't tell Suzy. Kayla's nervous when driving with her mom, but with me she's a regular Mario Andretti). She got straight A's in all advanced placement classes, she's a captain on the debate team, played JV golf last Fall and was on JV softball this Spring and she worked all summer at her mom's old law firm as a file clerk. It's hard to remember she's only 15 sometimes. Chloe is 12. She's crazy smart too. She just had those achievement tests and scored out on all subjects at 13+. In the 7th grade and is testing out at college level already. It's hard for me to even comprehend (she must have got a whole lot of her branes from Suzy and some bonus smarts from you). She just took a big trip to Italy with Suzy and they were able to hook up with Pat and Mary. Our Mary is 9 already! She's a dancer and a karate kid. She is the sweetest kid. She's happy all the time and friendly and talks and talks and talks. She struggles with her school work a little, but just got her first real report card from the third grade. All A's and a B+ and I couldn't be any more proud of her. I think I learned from you to always compliment and recognize hard work and effort. I think I quoted you the other day when she was crying over her homework saying it was so hard, I said, "If it ain't hard it's hardly worth doing!" I think that was one of yours. I don't think she liked me saying it as much as I didn't like you saying it, but someday she'll probably say it to her kid. I could go on and on about them, but I know you know them. 

I wish you were here and could get to know them in person. I like to think they know you through me, the good parts at least. The playing and the joking and the tickling and the laughing and the hugging parts. Also the tough as nails, protector, provider, lover of mom parts too. 

Well, thanks again for raising me best you could. I know it wasn't easy. And I know you weren't perfect, thank God, but you were a hell of a lot better dad than I ever gave you credit for while here. I am especially grateful for some of the lessons you taught me at the end of your journey. That no matter how rough the road gets, life is worth living. Life is always worth living, considering the alternative. Another one of yours I think.

Well I better sign off as it's getting late and I have work in the morning, Thank God!

Love always,

Bitty-buddy

P.S. Sorry for not mailing this, but you didn't leave a forwarding address. Hopefully Heaven has WiFi and you can read it at dumbdumbdaddyo.blogspot.com or hit the link at andykeith.com if you can't figure it out ask Carol she'll show you.

P.p.s. Facebook OMG you would have loved Facebook. Pictures and home movies all point and click! You'd've loved FB. 

Facebook memories

Facebook has started putting up memories on my wall to share. I really enjoy them. Appearently I shared this picture of DDD on Facebook four years ago. It made me wonder what I was doing to inspire the post. Was probably doing what I'm doing right now. Blogging on Dumbdumbdaddyo trying to ground myself, find some peace of mind and figure out what it's all about. This picture really hits me in a lot ways so I decided to just start writing about it and see why. He looks genuinely happy. Little twinkle in his eye. He looks jovial. This is him from when I was a teenager. He looks heavy. Fleshy. Round. Fat and happy. 

This is a little disconcerting as everyone who knew him says I look exactly like him. "Oh well, we are who we are," He used to always say, among other things. 

No judgement. But neither Fat nor happy lasted much longer after this picture was taken. After the strokes happiness was a rare commodity. The judgement is on me. Fat and Happy sounds pretty good when compared to just fat, which is pretty much how I have felt lately. 

Well here I go again. Writting myself into a stupor because I shared a photo of my father with a jovial smile and a twinkle in his eye! With a beard he could've been freaking Santa Claws. He led an incredibly happy and successful life and I am living proof of it. My children are even more so. If he were here right now he'd say something like, "I know you're home where you can scratch where it itches, but why don't go tuck in my grand daughters and tell them how much you love them. Go drink the sweet nectar of your wonderful life. Smell the roses. Live your life, it's not meant to just be happy all time. It's just meant to be,"

Well alright then Pops I'll just go tell my kids how much I love them just like you used to do with us. I love you too,