I know I have not been much of a joy to be around lately. (Okay the last few years) But yesterday I laughed more than I have in a long time. I made my dad laugh for the first time in a long time. (I ruined it by tearing up once I realized I hadn’t heard him laugh in so long)
I was on the phone with my sister. I had texted to her the other night to watch the movie Keanu. I was talking about the scene in the car where the guy is sincerely convincing a group of African American “Gangsta” drug dealers (how the movie describes them not me) that George Michael is African American and the song with “Father Figure” in it is about how he didn’t have a dad when he was growing up. He didn’t have a strong male role model. He had a “business” partner that was trying to hold him back and steal from him called “Ridgeley”. When George found out no one ever heard or saw him again.
By the end of the car scene they are all singing along to George Michael’s songs. One even gets a George Michael tattoo. I laughed so hard I had a coughing fit. My sister and I were hysterical with laughter just talking about it on the phone. I told her I had forgotten just how talented he was. She was still laughing because she was thinking the same. She was surprised I had listened to his music.
I wasn’t surprised she thought that. She never really took the time to find out my interests. I listen to ALL KINDS OF MUSIC. I know the lyrics to almost every “Oldies” song. I also used to listen to Ice-T when he was in Body Count nonstop. I go from Kenny Rogers to Slayer. Rod Stewart to Rob Zombie. Patsy Cline to Slipknot. Bob Seger to Motley Crue. Manfred Mann’s Earth Band to Judas Priest. I have forgotten more concerts than most people have been to. Not only is alcohol in my genetic makeup but so is music. I have my mom and brother to thank for that. Whether they were happy or sad they each expressed themselves through music. It’s something I have always done too.
So next I’m on the computer. I’m reading information when my dad comes in from outside. He starts to talk about being tired and not as strong as he used to be. He was complaining about having to carry ten, 50 pound bags from his truck down to the backyard. You have to go down a first set of stairs made of a railroad ties then crushed rock. There’s about 5. Then there’s a bigger step down to the rest of the stairs made the same way. There’s about ten more of these. (he’s 73, on dialysis, has mesh holding his stomach together from an aortic aneurysm, has had a quadruple bypass, and in general isn’t well). I admit I was only half listening because he says the same thing every time.
I’m not sure why I said what I did. I was actually a little serious I think. I stopped for a second to look at him and said ” I think I need to get back out there and find a boyfriend who can help with heavy lifting and stuff”. I must have looked sincere. My dad started laughing harder than I’ve seen him laugh in a long time. He said “thanks for sacrificing yourself on my behalf and offering to “get a boyfriend” for me”. He could barely talk he was laughing so hard. At first I didn’t know if I should be offended. Then I just started laughing too. It was pretty ridiculous of me to say.
I love my dad and I would do anything for him. It felt good to laugh with him and my sister yesterday. There’s nothing wrong when a few slivers of light pierce through the darkness.
P.S.~ The steps continue behind the building which has some of his birds in it and also serves as his “Clock Shop”.