Father's Day
I always get a stab of pain when I reach this holiday. It's probably the toughest of the Hallmark holidays for me. Thanksgiving & Christmas have a little more religious meaning for me so the loneliness of not having my parents around hits but I also focus on what is here and now and try to be grateful for my amazing husband, our little family of pups, our relatives near and far as well as the family we've come to to have in our closest friends.
Yes, the loss of my mom was probably more traumatic because of the suddenness and the fact that she was all I had left in my immediate family. I still cry on her birthday and on the anniversary of her death. But the pain is different with my dad. He was my protector in every sense. He was the man who told me to 'go for it'. This man never got to have that son he wanted so desperately so I became all that even though I wasn't a sports fanatic. I went fishing with him, we went to boat shows, we went to football, basketball and baseball games, we watched every football game on tv, every boxing match ever known to man, he enrolled me in swimming as that was my sport of choice.
He encouraged my music and dance lessons. He pressured me to excel in school. He sent me to private schools for as long as I was willing to be there. He made me do lots of chores (I was an only child so I didn't get away with much) and paid me an allowance and rewarded my 'A' grades with a dollar (per 'A' of course!). When I found my passion in music, dance and drill team in high school, he was my greatest supporter. He never missed a game, a parade, a concert, or fund raiser. I remember there was a photo of 15 year old me that appeared on the front page of the PSNS newspaper dressed in my West High School drill team uniform performing for a USN carrier that just arrived home that just sent him into Proud Papa heaven. I still have multiple copies of that paper. Seriously. All thanks to him. :-) When I was chosen as drill team captain my senior year, he was the first person I called. I swear, he was WAITING by the phone because he picked up before it started ringing. I didn't notice it back then, but I remember that now.
He encouraged my volunteering: working with the elderly, with animals, for any great cause and especially for the US veterans. When I got involved in the American Legion auxiliary (the ladies side of the AL) Girls State program, he was so happy. His kid, barely 16 was jumping into politics AND volunteering for a veteran's organization? I stayed with that program for 10 years as a counselor and board member before musical theatre took over my life, LOL.
We we traveled all over the place when I was a teen (frequently without my mom because she was visiting her family in Japan for long stretches when her own mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's). Without my knowing it he was constantly educating me during these trips, teaching me all about US history. I knew more about WWII, Korea and the Vietnam wars than most kids my age because of his first hand experiences.
I gave him a lot of trouble and yet he never waivered. He yelled at me, doled out swift and cruel punishments but he was always there for me. I knew it then, but just couldn't verbalize it. We weren't a touchy-feely kind of family so the 'I love you's' and hugs weren't frequent but I knew he loved me and would be there for me until the end.
He fought to live through all his difficult health issues. I have never known a man who wanted to truly live like he did. He lost a leg to diabetes, he had multiple heart attacks and surgeries for them, lost the use of his kidneys toward the end of his days and yet he wanted to live. It gave me a sense of security knowing how much he wanted to be with us. Of course, when he did die it made me feel like the floor had been ripped out from under me and I was in free fall. I still had my mom at the time and I had to be strong for her so I 'acted' like I was. She had just lost her partner of almost 49 years and I know she was devastated.'
I'm approaching my last performance as Maria Callas in "Master Class" today at the Jewel Box Theatre in Poulsbo. It's the most difficult artistic thing I've done onstage ever. Hands down. I honestly did not think I could do it. Yet, there was a part of me that said, "Yes, you can. You are NOT alone. You really can." I know it was my strong and silent dad whispering to me and standing beside me every step of the way. I have rarely felt nervous as I wait behind the curtain for my entrance in this show. This terrifying, scary role that made me lose sleep and gave me even more gray hairs than I want to admit to hasn't made me feel like throwing up during that usually terrifying moment before you hear "places!" from the stage manager. That's because I'm being held up not only by my faith as well as by my supportive husband and fellow actors/crew/staff but especially because my dad is right there with me. He really is. I feel his strength and love and I am at peace as soon as I recognize it.
I have a line in "Master Class" that reads "I am not good with words, but I have tried to reach you." That's my dad. I hear him when I say those words. It seems inconsequential but when I get to that line, he's saying it with me.
Daddy, I'm going out with a bang today and it's all for you. I wouldn't be here without you. I'm a better person for having known you and I am so grateful. And yes, you were a man that was not very good with words but you have reached me. "You have shown me what it means to be an artist, a musician and a good human being."
Happy Father's Day. I hope the fish are biting in heaven. Catch a big salmon for me, okay?
Yes, the loss of my mom was probably more traumatic because of the suddenness and the fact that she was all I had left in my immediate family. I still cry on her birthday and on the anniversary of her death. But the pain is different with my dad. He was my protector in every sense. He was the man who told me to 'go for it'. This man never got to have that son he wanted so desperately so I became all that even though I wasn't a sports fanatic. I went fishing with him, we went to boat shows, we went to football, basketball and baseball games, we watched every football game on tv, every boxing match ever known to man, he enrolled me in swimming as that was my sport of choice.
He encouraged my music and dance lessons. He pressured me to excel in school. He sent me to private schools for as long as I was willing to be there. He made me do lots of chores (I was an only child so I didn't get away with much) and paid me an allowance and rewarded my 'A' grades with a dollar (per 'A' of course!). When I found my passion in music, dance and drill team in high school, he was my greatest supporter. He never missed a game, a parade, a concert, or fund raiser. I remember there was a photo of 15 year old me that appeared on the front page of the PSNS newspaper dressed in my West High School drill team uniform performing for a USN carrier that just arrived home that just sent him into Proud Papa heaven. I still have multiple copies of that paper. Seriously. All thanks to him. :-) When I was chosen as drill team captain my senior year, he was the first person I called. I swear, he was WAITING by the phone because he picked up before it started ringing. I didn't notice it back then, but I remember that now.
He encouraged my volunteering: working with the elderly, with animals, for any great cause and especially for the US veterans. When I got involved in the American Legion auxiliary (the ladies side of the AL) Girls State program, he was so happy. His kid, barely 16 was jumping into politics AND volunteering for a veteran's organization? I stayed with that program for 10 years as a counselor and board member before musical theatre took over my life, LOL.
We we traveled all over the place when I was a teen (frequently without my mom because she was visiting her family in Japan for long stretches when her own mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's). Without my knowing it he was constantly educating me during these trips, teaching me all about US history. I knew more about WWII, Korea and the Vietnam wars than most kids my age because of his first hand experiences.
I gave him a lot of trouble and yet he never waivered. He yelled at me, doled out swift and cruel punishments but he was always there for me. I knew it then, but just couldn't verbalize it. We weren't a touchy-feely kind of family so the 'I love you's' and hugs weren't frequent but I knew he loved me and would be there for me until the end.
He fought to live through all his difficult health issues. I have never known a man who wanted to truly live like he did. He lost a leg to diabetes, he had multiple heart attacks and surgeries for them, lost the use of his kidneys toward the end of his days and yet he wanted to live. It gave me a sense of security knowing how much he wanted to be with us. Of course, when he did die it made me feel like the floor had been ripped out from under me and I was in free fall. I still had my mom at the time and I had to be strong for her so I 'acted' like I was. She had just lost her partner of almost 49 years and I know she was devastated.'
I'm approaching my last performance as Maria Callas in "Master Class" today at the Jewel Box Theatre in Poulsbo. It's the most difficult artistic thing I've done onstage ever. Hands down. I honestly did not think I could do it. Yet, there was a part of me that said, "Yes, you can. You are NOT alone. You really can." I know it was my strong and silent dad whispering to me and standing beside me every step of the way. I have rarely felt nervous as I wait behind the curtain for my entrance in this show. This terrifying, scary role that made me lose sleep and gave me even more gray hairs than I want to admit to hasn't made me feel like throwing up during that usually terrifying moment before you hear "places!" from the stage manager. That's because I'm being held up not only by my faith as well as by my supportive husband and fellow actors/crew/staff but especially because my dad is right there with me. He really is. I feel his strength and love and I am at peace as soon as I recognize it.
I have a line in "Master Class" that reads "I am not good with words, but I have tried to reach you." That's my dad. I hear him when I say those words. It seems inconsequential but when I get to that line, he's saying it with me.
Daddy, I'm going out with a bang today and it's all for you. I wouldn't be here without you. I'm a better person for having known you and I am so grateful. And yes, you were a man that was not very good with words but you have reached me. "You have shown me what it means to be an artist, a musician and a good human being."
Happy Father's Day. I hope the fish are biting in heaven. Catch a big salmon for me, okay?
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