Painting always reminds me of my Dad. When I was little, my dad worked at the CIA by day as a research librarian, but during his nights and weekends he moonlighted as a house painter. Him and this guy named Clyde had a small business and did interior and exterior house painting. I don't remember much of this second job, except that it kept him away from home a bit, required a lot of long ladders, and that Clyde had a truck and a big smile. Dad would come home covered with dots of paint.
My dad's health got worse and worse, and by the middle of my elementary school life the side painting job had to go b/c he started losing control over his legs from diabetes complications (which is not a good thing when climbing high ladders). That is when I became his painting apprentice. This usually involved dad sitting in a chair with his cane yelling at me to cut in better, roll differently, tape more effectively, etc. Let's just say, it was not a bonding moment. It was like paint boot camp and usually resulted in me screaming at him to get out or me dramatically exiting the scene of the painting with tween and/or teen flair.
So last night when I was painting, Adam came over to help so that we could get to bed. Suddenly I started nagging him to cut in better..."Why aren't you rolling that part?" "You're leaving brush strokes!" Wow...I had--for a skinny minute--become my father.
I don't see my dad a lot in myself; I see more of my mom. But this moment stunned me. My dad passed away 12 years ago. He hasn't seen me grow into a woman, marry my husband, have my first baby...He didn't witness my move to NYC or know of my career of as a teacher or my doctorate work. I don't really believe in a heaven, but if there is one, or if he's out there, I know that last night when I rabidly critiqued Adam's painting skills he would have said, "That's my girl."
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Lori,
ReplyDeleteOur dads do have a lot in common, that way. We call them "Doug-isms" (after g'pa, not yours). Ah, the Ungemah family at its best!
BTW - great to follow your life's journey on this blog. Keep it up!
Your cousin, David.
i had a similar experience recently. i steadfastly believe in heaven, and the other night i was reading susanna a bedtime story and said something my late grandmother always said. i immediately looked up from the book and looked around the room and smiled, just knowing that she was there with us. an angel watching over her great-granddaughter that she never met in the flesh. it gave me an immense amount of comfort, and i gave susanna an extra hug right then and there, as hokey as that might sound.
ReplyDeletei bet your dad had a chuckle when he heard you. you can take the daddy away from the child, but you can't take the daddy from inside the child -- isn't that how the phrase goes? :)