Before my father passed away – like right before (eight days to the day) – we had this talk. I asked him if he wanted to become a grandfather. I mean, was it something he was really looking forward to? I’m not sure why I asked. At least, not at that moment. He cocked his head to one side and started to remind me how he already had grandkids. Like I had forgotten or something. He smiled like it was a joke. Ever his impatient, serious, can’t relax daughter I rudely interrupted, “daaad…you know what I mean….” My voice trailed off, pathetic. It was then I think he realized the weight of my question for his answer came slowly and metaphorically. Like all good conversations it meandered away from the hypothetical and soon settled on here and now more important things. I was leaving home in a few days. We ended up talking about so many different things.
I never did get a solid yes or no out of him. That wasn’t his way. He spoke like a Sage, mixing words with wisdom and allowing me to sort it all out. He didn’t like to do all the talking so he showed guidance by asking a lot of questions. Take away what I needed to take. Making me answer myself. Making me think. He always made me think about things from a different side, from the other side. From not my side, no matter which side I was on, or thought I was on.
To this day I haven’t forgotten that conversation. Not because it brought me closer to adulthood. Not because it brought my closer to my father. Those things happened after the fact. I remember that conversation because it’s the last lecture. The last good talk I would ever have.
“But what I do know is this. When people die, what we regret is, not having talked to them enough” (Lessing, Doris. The Diaries of Jane Somers. New York: Vintage, 1984. p 62).
“I quote my father to people almost every day…Of course, when he have someone like my dad in your back pocket, you can’t help yourself” (Pausch, Randy. The Last Lecture. New York: Hyperion, 2008. p 23).
~*LunaSea*~ 
What a beautiful way you have given me to start my day. I too have a last moment with my father that acts as a portal for the love and life he manifested in my name. Thank you for sharing and reminding.
Beautiful blog. Thinking of you and your heart…xoxoxo
Some loves never die. The way you describe his way of making you think for yourself is his neverending way of loving you.
The answer to your question did not matter – it does not matter. The listening, the looks, the love – those are what matter.
You will always have that. No child could make a difference in how you feel now, nor how you felt then.
It does not matter.
love – me
(((HUGS)))
your father gave you amazing memories to live by, love by and dream by. continue to cherish them the way that you do. xoxo
Thanks everyone~ this is my way of making good of the missing. And miss I do.
xoxox
He truly did speak like a sage. You are very fortunate to have had such great conversations with him and you are wise to remember him for who he was.
Ruth~ definitely. I think that’s partly why this month is always so emotional.