Mom and I play Merchant Rummy some evenings after dinner. It reminds us both of my father, who passed away when I was in my late 30s. Mom came to live with me shortly after.
He and Mom used to play cards every night.
Often playing cards reminds us of Dad. Mom and I, when we play, are usually pretty evenly matched. When we first started playing after she moved in with us, I would often let her win because she was sorta depressed after Dad’s passing. Now she’s pretty perky, so I don’t do that, but I like that she still wins about half the time.
“Rick always laughed that Dad always won!” Mom joked tonight.
Mom was remembering the family vacation when we went to the Grand Canyon, Sedona, and Santa Fe. We saw majestic scenery and enjoyed spending time together. Every night, we played cards after dinner.
Rick thought it hilarious that Dad couldn’t hide how pleased he was to win.
Dad also insisted on treating us to our meals, entrance fees, and gas. But he couldn’t treat us to lodging — I had reserved B&Bs and paid for them and wouldn’t let him pay me back.
And we took lots of pictures, including the one at the top of this article, which Rick took.
Dad adored my Mom, and she adored him. To me, that is obvious from the photo above — they are totally focused on each other.
She shared with me tonight how she would read to him when he was tired in the evening. This was after Dad semi-retired. I’d left home and my brother was working. so they had more time for each other.
This was a very happy period for them because their kids were grown and they had time for each other.
He got up before she did and made coffee for both of them. When she got up, she made breakfast after having coffee with Dad. She always made him fresh juice because he’d had a heart attack and she wanted to “make his cheeks rosy,” as she put it.
She later told me that his heart doctor told her that he wished his wife did that — he thought the nutrition my Dad was getting from the fresh juice was helping him live longer.
Of course, Mom and Dad had always done acts of service for each other.
When us kids were little, we’d remember Dad coming home exhausted after work. We were to leave him alone to rest for about 15 minutes. Then Mom would serve dinner.
No matter what she served, we were all supposed to eat it. Including Dad — he didn’t like eggplant, for example, but he ate it when Mom made it. However, she always added extra potatoes (which Dad loved) and made sure she served him mostly potatoes with just a little eggplant.
After dinner, he always washed the dishes so she could rest, and he would help me with my homework while Mom got my brother to bed.
Mom always ironed his handkerchiefs. He always took the family out to eat on Saturday so Mom had a day off from cooking. She did most of the driving when we went on road trips because Dad didn’t like to drive and she didn’t mind. He always went shopping with her when she needed to buy something heavy so he could carry it for her.
On Sundays, sometimes Dad would take us kids to the park. This was something we loved, because he would push us on swings or make the little merry go round spin. He loved spending time with us, and we did too, but it also gave Mom a break.
Don’t get me wrong — life wasn’t perfect. Mom and Dad argued sometimes, and there were stressful situations. But one thing we always knew — Mom and Dad loved each other.
When Mom shares memories of Dad with me — the love still shows in her face and the tone of her voice. She misses him. Talking about him helps her and listening to her reminiscences helps me too because it teaches me more about the man he was.
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This post was previously published on Shefali O’Hara’s blog.
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From The Good Men Project on Medium
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