Magic Words
By: Evan Pease
Tags: Dads, Death, Adoption, Life Lessons, Love

They arrived at the hospital with Mom talking a mile a minute. Ever since Mom told Dad the news, she was a constant stream of chatter. Usually, he calmed her down, but he was anxious too. He knew this day would come and yet he felt unprepared. While Mom talked, Dad paced. The nurse arrived. Her entrance silenced Mom. My parents shared looks of, “this is it.” The nurse handed me to my new Mother.

On the day they adopted me, I met an amazing man, my Dad. Rough times have happened though. We’ve had emotional distances and lost time. I own most of that. Dad pulled back now and then. I can be a bit much. Chances are it started around the time I took their Volvo out for a joy ride and wrecked it. No matter who’s blaming who for whatever rough times happen in families. Most people; fathers, sons, daughters, and mothers, have regrets. Family can’t be a family without some. How to resolve them, is the question.

A father’s relationship with his son is always a mixed bag. When you are a helpless little dude, dad is God. He was my first best friend, confidant, savior, and protector. The first time he saved my life we were at the beach. I waded near the shore but stepped into a deep hole. He plucked his three-year-old to the surface in seconds. The last time happened after my divorce. Life was dark, poor and sad. He brought me groceries. He knew my thoughts and with one reassuring hand on my shoulder said, “don’t do anything stupid.”

As I went from little dude to big, our relationship changed. I did not understand this. When I came home from college, my head packed with how the world needed to be, it started. My father was no longer a god, he was mortal. It wasn’t fair to hold him to a standard I developed as an infant. I wanted to put him back on the pedestal. I didn’t want him to be human like me.

Humans have issues, even Dads. He wrestled with his demons, but his family always came first. He did his best. That is all we can ever do, even when our best includes mistakes.

When I popped into the world, he had high hopes and dreams for me. Whenever he introduced me to someone at the store, his clients, a friend, anyone at all, he said with pride, “this is my son — Evan.” He said it deeper than anything else of which he was proud.

His pride became muted somewhere on my timeline of mistakes. I sometimes imagine he wished he stayed home on the day the hospital called. He said nothing about his disappointment. I had my own demons to contend with. He witnessed my struggle unable to help me. This must have been difficult for him. I needed to fail and succeed in the cycle of growing up. Disappointment may be a path to acceptance, but great moments make it easier.

Dad was a general contractor. People called him because of his honesty and excellent work. No one ever called for a deal. They paid for the best. They may have seen him working on their house, but they didn’t see him come home from work exhausted. His loud snoring on the couch till dinner. The late nights drawing up plans for how he would fix something. The mornings spent selecting only the best materials at the lumberyard. They witnessed none of that, but many of the wealthiest families gave him the key to their homes and lives.

I worked for him during and after high school. We had fun together. One July we were building a stairway down a steep bank to the beach. We both kept slipping and sliding while laughing at our predicament. At one point he stopped working. He looked at the sun dance on the waters of Puget Sound and said, “This is a great place to work.” We both laughed because maybe it was, but the job not so much. He is the best boss ever and taught me more than any of them put together. Those are my fondest memories; getting into the truck on our way to build stuff.

I eventually quit working for him at twenty-three. We didn’t have a falling out. I needed to make it on my own in the big city. I exchanged good times for a suit and tie. I don’t regret my decision, and he doesn’t fault me. I needed to experience the world, and that meant our relationship changed. The song “Cats in the Cradle” makes me cry every time I hear it; a song I wish wasn’t true.