Celebrating on Father's Day

I miss my dad. With Father's Day approaching, I can't stop thinking of him. I miss fly-fishing with my father on the Coeur d'Alene River, searching too long for lost second-hand golf balls hit hundreds of yards off-line by the self-proclaimed, "Gorilla Golfer" and arguing politics around the kitchen table while drinking Pepsi and eating black olives.

I am the junior to my dad's senior, the oldest son in a family of five and share the facial characteristics of the man who created me. With my father's death a year and a half ago and my mother's death seven months ago, I am now at 50 years old, the patriarch of the Rutherford clan - I am an orphan.

Who do I call when I have an amazing day? Who do I talk to when I need advice about grandchildren, coworkers, friends and family? What do I do on Mother's and Father's Day - no cards to buy, no one to call?

My pops left this Earth three months shy of his 72nd birthday of a mystery disease that stole his memory, devastated his body and created frightening delusions. My dad was my mother's rock. Mom and dad were deeply in love and struggled to understand that their world was crumbling around them.

As my father lay dying, my mother begins to show signs of illness - pain in her back, numerous falls and shortness of breath. My mom is diagnosed with lung cancer less than a year after my father's death and passes away Nov. 2, 2013.

Dad works off and on during my childhood. He works at an asbestos plant, cuts firewood and works as a draftsman. When dad works he was very generous and gives his money to his children and grandchildren. The year's dad doesn't work, life is tough. Making the house payment, buying food and clothes and fixing our old car becomes a daily struggle but, dad always loves us and usually finds a way to make the tough times bearable.

As an adult, I hold my dad responsible for the financial struggles he places on our family. I become angry thinking of my mother crying having to call the bank and explain that she can't make the house payment, my brother, sister and me having to wear torn and dirty clothes to school and searching the neighborhood for pop bottles to exchange for money to pay my Boy Scouts dues. In my mind, dad's lack of employment creates our poverty and I cannot forgive him for causing pain to the ones I love.

What I don't realize is that my dad has his demons to conquer and feels twice as badly as I do that he is not providing for his family. When I turn 40, I decide to heal old wounds. I know I am missing something but don't know what that something is. I call dad and we agree to start having father and son vacations twice a year to reconnect and reform our relationship.

On our second vacation my dad and I are fly-fishing in the high Sierras as a hailstorm hits. We run for cover under a large Douglas fir in the beautiful granite-faced peaks at 10,000 feet above sea level. Drenched, kneeling for cover with fly rods in hand and Mother Nature hurling icy rocks from Heaven at us we look at each other, shake our heads, begin to laugh and hug. At this moment, all past regressions are forgiven.

This is the last of our vacations. My father, realizing he and my mother will have to work until they die due to past fiscal irresponsibility decide not to take time off work anymore. He and mom collectively decide to retire two days a week - Saturdays and Sundays. Mom and dad both work up to their deaths. They enjoy their weekend retirement, they enjoy each other and they love their children. They die emotionally fulfilled with no regrets.

In the past I think of what my dad took from me: a childhood of financial stability, a positive role model of success, confidence to achieve in life and emotional stability. Now I think what my dad teaches me: to be fiscally responsible and to prepare for life after work, that money does not create happiness, if I find someone I love for my life-partner I will be happy forever and to love my family unconditionally.

This past Mother's Day I work hard in my yard, play golf, play with my grandchildren and hug my wife. I try to take my mind off this first Mother's Day without my mom. This Father's Day I plan to celebrate! I will start the weekend at Car d'Lane looking for a two-door, '55 Chevy Bel Air convertible, my dad's favorite car and will hug and kiss my daughter, grandchildren and my wife. Instead of wallowing in what I don't have, I will celebrate what I do have, as my dad would want me to. Dad, this poem is for you.

A Fallen Limb

Author unknown

A limb has fallen from the family tree

I hear a voice that whispers, 'Grieve not for me'

Remember the best times, the laughter, the songs

The good I lived while I was strong

Continue my heritage, I'm counting on you

Keep on smiling, the sun will shine through.

My mind is at ease, my soul is at rest

Remembering all...how I was truly blessed

Continue traditions, no matter how small

Go on with your lives, don't stare at the wall

I miss you all dearly so keep up your chin

Until that fine day we're together again.

Send comments or other suggestions to Bill Rutherford at [email protected].