Day 21
Prompt: March 7, Dad’s birthday
Today my father would have been 95 years old. Born in 1929, he often joked his birth brought on the crash and the Great Depression. It’s been fifteen years since he died on January 1, 2009. The grief is still there, muffled, yet every so often it breaks through and jumpstarts my heart.
Last December when my siblings and I cleaned out our mother’s house, we found photos and memorabilia that resuscitated those memories of Dad. In almost every box and drawer, there he was. Sigma Alpha Epsilon dance photos. Collages with Mom and Dad’s friends. His fraternity paddle. Old sweatshirts. I felt Dad’s presence, even though he had never seen the house Mom bought after he went in the nursing home. He was everywhere.
On this 7th day of March I am reminded of his legacy. He had a few jokes on a loop, pulling them out at every family gathering. Dad was frugal, skimping on everything. Stories of shopping for days old bread, our long line of sketchy used cars, and the time we were forced to make powdered milk are all part of family lore, but we are grateful there is enough savings and investments to comfortably care for Mom as she ages. I parceled out his high school ring, tie tacks, and fraternity pins to his grandsons, hoping they appreciate the little part of Papa they now carry. All of us inherited elements of his fearsome worry gene, but working on not allowing it to paralyze us like it did him. His four children carry some genetic component of his: I have his dark hair and dusky skin color, Jeff holds his smile, Ann posses his laugh, and Bruce emanates his kindness. I see bits of him in every one of his grandchildren. Every wedding, baby, or family reunion picture I retrieved reminded me of what he gave us.
Even though Dad has physically been gone for fifteen years, our patriarch is still among us. I often feel his hand on my shoulder, helping me navigate this life of mine. Our family has grown exponentially, but Dad will always be at the head of the table raising his glass and saying, “I bet you’re all wondering why I asked you here today.”
Love you, Dad. Your gifts are infinite, and will live on in future generations of Shumates. We are lucky we had such a good man as you as our father.
