When I’m Feeling Low

It took me years to realize my family of origin was pretty dysfunctional. But as an adult, one of my favorite go-to’s when I feel low is remembering how caring and wonderful my dad was and how he honored my feelings, holding them close to his heart.

Dad’s Special Place

I would jump at the chance to be with Dad when he spent time in his special place–his Man Cave. That’s where he kept his guns, cameras and film equipment, plus special sentimental pieces from his childhood. I am certain he only allowed me in when he was there because of the guns. He told all of us, “The only exception to going into the Man Cave by yourself is if the house is on fire. Then you grab all the 8mm films you can. Everything else is replaceable.”

One Special Item

When I was allowed in the room, one of my favorite items I sought out was a stuffed bird. It was about the size of my palm, with wild ostrich feather plumage glued onto it. The yellows, reds, and green colors dazzled me. Dad kept the bird secured away in a glass cabinet. I was memorized by this delicate object, so out of place surrounded by items dedicated to hunting. I made stories about why it was set apart with reverence and displayed only for Dad’s eyes to see.

Was it a gift from a princess he had rescued from the grips of a ferocious dragon? Was it a piece of treasure he had found while hunting with Indians? My imagination knew no boundaries.

A Flash of Wisdom

I figured—with all the wisdom that a four-year-old could have—since Father’s Day was approaching and Dad liked it so much, I should give it to him again.  Since I was already in his room, I had access to the sacred bird.

When Dad was not looking, I carefully walked over to the display case and opened it. Slowly, I reached into the case and carefully grabbed the stuffed bird. I held it in my tiny hands as if it were precious jewels. I abruptly left and took my stolen booty to my bedroom. Securing the bird there, I left my room and brought back several pages of newspaper and masking tape. With all the care I could muster, I wrapped the stuffed bird as his Father’s Day gift. I was sure he would be thrilled with my present.

On Father’s Day, after dinner was finished, Mom and Dad were having coffee. That was my queue. I ran upstairs and scooped up my special gift for Dad. Standing before him I ceremonially offered him my carefully wrapped package. He looked at the crumpled ball of newspaper encircled with bands of masking tape and pulled me up into his lap so I could have the perfect view of the unveiling.

Never missing a beat

As he carefully unwrapped the mound of tape and paper, he revealed the soft, fragile stuffed bird that I had taken from his glass cabinet. He paused, smiled, and said that he loved it. “Thank you for the perfect present, Robbie. This is such a cute bird. I’ll keep it forever!” He smothered me with hugs and kisses. I strutted away as if I had just been awarded a national medal for being the most loving and awesome child of the year. Later that summer, we began preparation for Dad’s birthday. He never wanted much of a fuss, but we enjoyed honoring him the best we could.

Even in the most dysfunctional family, there are good memories. What stories do you carry in your heart?

I had a dilemma

I had no idea how to out-gift Father’s Day, then one day the answer came to me. Dad liked it so much that I’d give him the bird again.

One day while he was in the gun room,  I carefully opened the display case and grabbed the feathered masterpiece. And as before, I took it to my room and wrapped it with newspaper and masking tape. When the time came for presents after dinner, I made sure I was at the front of the pack. Dad, once again, scooped me and my ball of newspaper and masking tape up and pulled me on his lap.

Then he opened the present

When he saw all the plumage and beautiful colors … and not missing a beat … he raved on about how beautiful this present was and how he was so pleased that I knew just what he liked. He never let on that he recognized the bird from the glass case in his room or that he even knew I had taken it. Instead, he made a fuss over me and my re-re-gifted item that had already belonged to him.

He made me feel like I had offered him the moon and it was the most special gift he ever received. In my preschool mind, life with my dad was the most perfectest life ever.

I have so many wonderful memories of my father. With Father’s Day around the corner and if I’m feeling low, I will—just like every year—miss his hugs. Memories will have to be enough.

If possible, find something to thank your father for. You’ll be glad you did.

(Re-posted from June 2012)

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