Tomorrow Can Make up for Yesterday

We were huddled in the living room, on the couch, watching a horror movie.

I must have been around ten years old. I was leaning against my mother, and my sister was at the end of the couch. Dad was in his reading chair, and the family poodle was dozing on the floor.

It was a Saturday night, when the TV personality Bob Wilkins hosted a horror show called “Creature Features.” The films were typically awful, low-budget productions, including the one we watched that night.

It was called “The Vulture,” featuring a monstrous falcon with a man’s head terrorizing a local community.

Watching clips of the film today, it’s utterly corny. But when I was a little boy who still believed in monsters hiding under my bed, the movie was quite scary to me. Even my sister (two years older than me) and my mother were completely absorbed in the film.

We watched a scene where an unfortunate fellow in bed hears something knock on his glass balcony door. He climbs out of bed, opens the door, and steps on the balcony.

He looks around, but it’s late at night and dark.

Suddenly, there is the sound of large wings flapping as two enormous claws sink into the man’s shoulders, lifting him off the balcony and away as he screams.

I remember my sister, my mother, and me all flinching.

And then my Dad laughed and said, “Well, I’m going to bed. You all enjoy the movie.” I don’t recall any of us saying “Goodnight” to him as we were too captivated by the story.

About twenty minutes later, another tense scene in the movie was unfolding.

Our poodle was now on the couch with my sister, mother, and me. And then, shockingly, there were several loud knocks coming from the outside of our living room window.

Everyone screamed and the poodle erupted with startled barking.

We heard my father, laughing heartily in the dark outside the living room window. He had crept out the master bedroom door at the back of the house and snuck around to the living room window, where he carried out his mischievous prank.

“Oh my God, you scared the heck out of us!” my mother yelled, which made him laugh louder.

Dad was a reserved intellectual and not given to practical jokes, which only made his prank that much more unexpected and (in hindsight) funny. We laughed about the whole thing many times since.

Eight years later, when I was 18, Dad played a different prank on me, but it didn’t make me laugh.

It scared the hell out of me.

They’re not there to scare you

My father suffered a heart attack at home when I was 13 years old.

He survived and spent years taking medication to manage his angina and related symptoms. Eventually, his condition worsened and he had to undergo bypass surgery, which was successful.

Dad took his recovery seriously.

He changed his diet, exercised regularly, and participated in group therapy with other heart patients who were diagnosed as “Type A” personalities. Type A people tend to be driven, intense, and impatient. Thus, they are taught to relax and avoid triggers that lead to impatience and stress.

Despite the success of my father’s recovery, I always worried about his heart health. I frequently reminded him to take it easy when he did yard work around the house or whenever he ascended a stairway.

Don’t be afraid of your fears. They’re not there to scare you. They’re there to let you know that something is worth it. — C. JoyBell C.

Having witnessed Dad’s heart attack when I was young, a terrible fear took root in my consciousness. A fear worse than vulture creatures in a late-night horror film.

It was a fear that one day I might lose my father.

Which brings me to Dad’s less-than-funny prank. I returned home (running a little late) from a summer job to pick up my parents for dinner. I unlocked the front door to the house and stepped inside.

My father was lying on his back on the front entryway floor.

His eyes were shut, his mouth was open, and his tongue hung out. I dropped to my knees, lay my hands on his shoulders, and began yelling, “Dad! Dad!”

He suddenly opened his eyes, looked up at me, and said, “I’m starving to death,” followed by his baritone laughter. A surge of relief and anger came over me.

 

“That’s not funny, Dad, I thought you had a heart attack! Don’t ever do that again, you scared the hell out of me!” I was visibly shaken.

He apologized and said, “Come on, let’s get your mother and go to dinner.”

Waiting to strike

The years passed and after graduate school, I moved out of my parents’ home to begin a career in law enforcement.

With education, police experience, and maturity, I learned many ways to deal with fear. My training and abilities gave me the confidence to confront violent criminals, engage in high-speed vehicle pursuits, and investigate crime scenes.

I dealt with suicides, dead bodies, bloody accidents, and traumatic incidents.

And yet, despite my confidence in facing all these challenges, one fear always remained deep within me. It traced back to when I was 13 years old, watching helplessly during my father’s heart attack. I remember the paramedics working on him, as he looked up and said to me, “Keep a stiff upper lip, Johnny.”

Thankfully, Dad survived his heart attack. And his bypass surgery years later.

But there was always that thing knocking on the glass door of my heart and mind. That terrible vulture, lurking in my dreams and consciousness.

Waiting to strike.

Waiting to land on my father’s shoulders, and take him away.

A little tomorrow can make up for a whole lot of yesterday

This is how it is for fathers and sons who love one another.

We can become the bravest of men, who stare down criminals and violence and frightening situations. But the fear of personal loss is much like that vulture in the night.

You never know when it’s going to strike.

Luckily for me, my Dad’s heart never failed him. He retired from his career as an administrative law judge at age 79. After that, he enjoyed a few years of retirement and quality family time before passing away from a brief illness at age 83.

I remember once he told me, “Johnny, there are few things in life to worry about. Keep a sense of humor, and remember that even difficult things will pass.”

I think he became more philosophical with age.

It’s amazing how a little tomorrow can make up for a whole lot of yesterday. — John Guare, Landscape of the Body

I smile now whenever I think back to that night with my family watching “The Vulture.” Especially that scary moment when the creature flew off with his victim, and while we were all screaming, my father was laughing.

I think that’s the lesson.

Worry less about yesterday, laugh at things today, and know that tomorrow will come with new blessings. Don’t fret about the thing knocking on the glass door.

It’s just a scary, low-budget movie in your mind.

Before you go

John Patrick Weiss writes stories and essays about life, often illustrated with his black and white photography. Visit  JohnPatrickWeiss.com.

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This post was previously published on Medium.com.