My phone rings two hours prior to the appointment, dad, making sure I remembered I had the appointment and was getting ready. One-hour-and-a-half before my appointment dad calls again, just to make certain I am dressed and ready to go, and to strongly suggest we go ahead and head out now, just to be sure we arrive on time. I explained to him that from my house we were only fifteen minutes away from the doctor's office which was, at that point in the day, still closed, and since he was only five minutes away from me, I thought his leaving to come get me at seven-thirty would leave us more than enough time to make our eight o'clock appointment.
Not pleased with my lack of foresightedness, he begrudgingly agreed to my time-table but not before leaving me with this warning, "Fine, but I am not going to drive like a bat our of hell the way you do just to get you there on time."
"Yes, daddy, this bat out of hell hasn't had a ticket in over twenty years, but hey, I'm sure that is all about pure luck."
There were two more calls before the agreed upon pick-up time. One to make certain I had the money to pay the doctor, the other to alert me that he was on his way so I might want to go ahead and finish getting ready so we could leave as soon as he gets to me, you know, so we weren't late.
We pull into the doctor's parking lot and dad begins to rapid-fire question me.
"What sort of doctor's office is this next to a donut shop?"
"Which car is the doctor's?"
"How long have you been seeing this guy? What's wrong with Dr. Collins, he's been taking care of Mom and me just fine all these years."
Once inside dad found a quiet corner to read his book while I signed in and payed cash for my visit, per the instructions on the sign beside the window. I took a seat next to dad's and before I could reach inside my purse for my book he asked, "What sort of doctor only takes cash? I don't trust the fellow, Pamela, I don't trust him at all."
While we waited there were comments about the big screen TV set blaring Lady and the Tramp through the surround sound holding the attention of two children waiting along with us, and observations made about the art choices gracing the walls. Speculations on the cost of all, and a sound verdict that my doctor had shite taste in art.
After being called back and seeing the doctor, I came out to find my father talking with the girl at the window. I don't know the content of the conversation, I only know it stopped abruptly when I came around the corner.
On the way home dad peppered me with opinions about my doctor, all taken in stride. He's been my dad for a long time, after all, I knew what I was getting into when I asked for his help.
This morning I woke to the insistent ringing of my phone. It was dad, informing me that I have a three o'clock appointment with Dr. Collins today which he and mom are paying for.
I forgot to ask if he had already called my boss to clear that time off with her. I wouldn't be surprised to find he has.
For all his pushiness, for all his rough exterior, for all his opinionated, insistent, interference, I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world, because the one thing I have known my entire life with absolute certainty, I am his daughter and I am well loved and much treasured.
I can only wish such a father for every daughter.
CORNERSTONE
(for my dad)
Once solid rock now life-slammed sand
Shuffles lost, in search of what, I do not know
We sit together, him and me
Silence where chatter used to be
Searching his eyes for the depth they once held
Hollow green surface is all pain has left
Crag under whose shadow I once hid
How I long for the safety of your shade
Bedrock from which my life was formed
How I miss the comfort of your warmth
Foundation on which I did rest from the squall
How I need the support your arms once allowed
Would that I could, like a small child crawl
Back to the rock which once sheltered me
Where have you gone to and will you return
Whisper the words that will bring back again
The keystone who always stood watch over me
I'm floored.
ReplyDeleteI love this post :)
My current post (titled Memoriail Day Tribute - Legacy) has a link about 'My Dad, My Veteran' at the bottom you would understand :)
joy,
katey
I do understand. My dad is mentally ill, has been now for eleven years. He suffers from manic/depression, and OCD. He has tried three times now to leave us, and all three times was found in time, but only just the last time, so even though some things remain the same with him, most don't and I miss my dad. The big strong guy with the booming laugh and answers for everything. Miss the way he used to sit for hours and debate issues with his bible college buddies. Miss the way his eyes would dance with mischief as he teased and prodded my mom or one of us girls, though every once in a while, those eyes do gleam, just not often enough.
ReplyDeleteI hate when he falls into the depression because he grows silent and I wish whole heartedly for the naggy, overbearing intrusive fellow I wrote this story about.
I can not even comprehend a day when I won't be able to see his face and hear his voice.
I am so so sorry for your loss.