Calling on a Memory

One of my most happiest moments during the day is talking to my father on the phone.  I look forward to hearing how his day has been and what he has been up to during his retired life.  It's also secretly a way for me to check in on him being miles and miles away.  My dad continues to still make me laugh and his sense of humor has always been witty but cynical.  When I was a child, he would find ways to make me smile.  Whether it was dancing with me to the Beatles in the living room or surprising me with a puppy on Christmas day, dad knew how to make his little girl happy.

When I talked to him this morning, coffee in hand, he had me laughing so hard I was tearing.  To hear him tell me how hard the past two weeks have been during his retired life makes me realize how long he has been out of the workforce.  His newly installed tv stopped working in one day, his car that he has brought to the mechanic over a dozen times still continues to have the same problem, it actually snowed in Tucson, and he has gained 8 pounds even though his appetite is down to one meal a day!  You would have thought his whole life came crashing down.  He was so exhausted to relive the stories I couldn't help but laugh.  I briefly mentioned the postcard I had sent to see if he received it, but he had not.  I was curious to see what he thought of Shane's stained sweatshirt!  I left that conversation feeling good, happy, confidant that he could retell his stories of the past few weeks so clearly, so vividly, I was happier when I got off the phone then when I called and heard his voice in the first place.

I called him back tonight to see if he received the postcard I sent him knowing the mail had at this point been delivered for the day.  Unfortunately, he didn't remember talking to me about postcards or recall a few other topics we discussed.  My heart sunk and my previous thoughts that my father today had made progress, quickly disappeared.  This shouldn't be a surprise but yet it continues to surprise me.  This is the norm as I continue to age and as my father's memories, whether long or short term, fade. I can pretend that this doesn't exist, but moments like these remind me what is reality.  I escape by writing and by wishing time stands still, but its silly thoughts like these that allow me to hide from my own self-doubt.  In these moments, I think back and remember the positives of these conversations.  I fall asleep smiling for the things he does remember and the laughs he continues to get out of me.  This is what makes me keep smiling, sleep soundly and constantly look forward to the next call to hear his voice and his troubles as a retired man in sunny Arizona.