May 20 – June 2, 2012
My husband left me. Not forever, just for three weeks while visiting the Isle of Man, his home. This could feel like forever if I secretly didn’t relish the opportunity to have the house all to myself; a quiet space and a king size bed to sleep in diagonally. I am the envy of all my married girlfriends. When I shared this news with my parents, of my temporary single life, my dad asked if I would like some company. I quickly realized he meant just him, not with my mom. I eagerly accepted his offer. We said our goodbyes and I hung up the phone. Only moments, seconds really, passed when I realized this would be the first time that my father and I have spent more than 24 hours together, just the two of us. No husband, mom, or sister to break-up the conversation or hours in the day. I can’t say that I felt nervous, this was my dad. Someone I admire, love and care for deeply, not to mention find funny and interesting. But there was a twinge of something that I couldn’t place my finger on. A feeling of some sort. Anticipation maybe, but I didn’t think so. I pushed it aside and began planning his visit.
I’m not sure how the conversation began, but on the first night of his visit, my father shared that the Great Lakes Naval Base was just north of the city. I was surprised, not knowing that such a place even existed so close to home. After learning that my father, some forty-five years earlier, had gone through training there; Our trip north was solidified with this news. I envisioned my father, a young, optimistic eighteen year old boy going through boot camp with thousands of other young men. I was excited to take this trip down memory lane alongside him. Saturday morning we hopped in the car, taking the long way, winding north up Sheridan Road through cloudy skies, arriving in Great Lakes 45 minutes later. My dad says “it looks the same, but different.” Some things changing, others not. Modernized buildings and entrances, flank old points of entry and housing. I look left to see young naval men and women marching. We turn right into the guest parking lot, the naval museum just beyond an enormous naval gun on display in the courtyard. We enter the museum, a modest but insightful exhibit categorically displaying naval history here at Great Lakes and in the world. Traditions of past continue, although changed and developed over time. The museum is small, but inclusive of naval history. I learn a lot. Not just about uniforms, training, ships and combat, but about my father. Stories of his training, his time at sea and abroad. The good, the bad, all there. Would I have gone here if it were not for my father? No, but he made it all worth while, just to know him a little better.
Next up, 103 three floors above the bustling city streets we hover over Chicago. Waiting for what felt like hundreds of Japanese tourists to pose for their 100th picture, we impatiently wait our turn. Finally we are there, next in line. My heart begins to pound and I have the uncontrollable urge to run away. I now understand the term “fight or flight”. I am scared to step out on this thing. What if I’m the unlucky one today? What if today is the day the glass decides to give way? I look over and realize my dad is under the same quiet hysteria that I am. Finally, the Japanese group has parted and a space becomes available.
“Come on dad, you can do it! Just don’t look down” I say. I step out first looking out, not down. I am tip-toeing across, treading lightly, as if that would make a difference if this thing decided to separate from the building. I slowly get acclimated, but not comfortable. We have someone take our photo and not two seconds later my father has jumped out and left me there. He clearly has a fear of heights–also something I did not know. I take a moment and look down. It’s freaky and I have had enough. I step off and we call it a day. When I told my dad I had bought tickets for the Sears Tower Skydeck (The Ledge), I don’t know if it resonated with him that we would be stepping out onto a thick pane of glass, dangling over the city. I’ve lived in Chicago for over 10 years and have never taken the time to go up. Always over and through, but never up. From up here, the city looks clean and peaceful. No horns honking, traffic or smog. Just sunshine, blue waters and pops of color. I kind of like it, despite all the tourists.
After four days of eating, drinking, walking, playing and eating some more, if was time for dad to depart. I sadly dropped him off at the train station and gave him a big hug goodbye. That earlier feeling I couldn’t put my finger on, I now understand it to be self-imposed. As if I insisted that I should feel some erroneous emotion simply because I don’t get to see my father often. What I understand is that, quite simply, it is easy to be with him. Effortless really. The conversation comes easy, the jokes and a shared love of topics. His visit only made me wish we could do this all the time, but we can’t. So, I will remember this time, just the two of us, and look forward to the next time. Knowing I will learn new things about him, myself and the city I live in.
Stay tuned for week 43 of 52LC when I have no fear of e.coli and freeze my bullocks off!
So glad you and your Dad had such a great time but he,s pretty easy to get along with I should know after 41 yrs. you are an adventurier just like him.you both like new places and different thing .he also loved the time he spent with you .love ya good blog Honey
This is great Mel! Loved reading what you wrote about your time spent with your Pops. So precious! Also, loved the sky deck photos…so brave you both are!
I think this is my favorite post. I am so glad you got to learn some new things about dad. Learning that he was at the navel base there for boot camp. You got to enjoy each others company and learn fascinating facts about one another.
My prediction is that you will always treasure the memories of Dave’s private time with you on this visit … just as, surely, Dave must treasure those exact same moments.
So many Americans, even in today’s frantic world, still live just a few blocks away from their parents, their uncles, aunts, cousins and high school classmates. To them, time spent with family is commonplace, indistinguishable from the normal daily grind. Lucky for them!
Not you. Not Ben. Nor, certainly, me. We are the exiles. So, for us, the love that we have never lost but cannot express on a daily basis, can only be exchanged in short, carefully arranged bursts. The memories become truly precious.