We just finished an amazing weekend of family, and sun, and BBQ (veganized for everyone!), and swimming, and…. (okay, hold that thought for a sec). Let’s go back a day.
You see, one of Dad’s granddaughters, Kym, my niece (Toni’s daughter!), who hails now from Tennessee with her husband Bryan, came to visit for five days. We are so excited to have her here. We took advantage of this moment to call the family back together, from Yakima, to not only see and visit with Kym, but to see Dad after a month of being at Club Med Lenseigne: Lake Stevens campus. The family BBQ was on Saturday—a glorious day of sun, fun, laughter, and stories (some of which might end up in future posts).
Somehow it was mentioned to Dad, on Saturday, about what “the plan” was for Sunday—with Kym, Kristin, Cassidy, Chris, and me. I had dropped the idea to him a couple weeks ago—but Dad’s first, knee-jerk reaction to plans like this is to say: “I don’t want to do that. I’m not going. Not in my condition.” So I’ve found it to be better to not plant the seed early and have to manage all the manufactured stress for Dad—Dad’s become a master at manufacturing his own stress and worry! NOTE: I’m working on it!!!
Before Dad joined us, and after we knew of Kym’s visit, I bought tickets to a Mariner’s game (our local Major League Baseball team). If you’ve read these posts from the start, you’ll remember we want to create experiences for Dad; have him engage in family life and activity and novelty; create memories with him for his progeny’s future; and to get him off his dang butt.
Me: [Saturday early evening after the conversation turned in this direction, somehow]: Yeah Dad, we’re going to go to a Mariner’s baseball game. We wanted to treat Kym and you to something fun.
Dad: I’m not going to a baseball game.
Conversation over.
It’s not worth prolonging agony sometimes. Not Dad’s, mine. (Yeah, call me selfish in that way. Have you met my Dad?).
But here’s the thing: this whole journey we’re all on here is a serious endeavor to keep living life until life ends. Dad’s tendency to not want to do things like this is, I think, threefold: 1. It involves effort and it is way more easy to just stay at home and stay comfortable and “sit in my chair,” (in other words, just like when he was in jail…oops, I mean Brookdale. Funny how this point is lost on him sometimes); 2. He doesn’t want to be an imposition on others because he knows his level of dependency on others is very high; and 3. I sometimes catch a glimpse of either embarrassment or shame when we are in public together. This once strong and virile man is not that way anymore and he knows it but he puts thoughts in his mind about what he believes others might think of him, especially if/when his hand tremors, or his mouth drools, or his body becomes rigid and cannot move, or he needs to use the restroom but can’t do it alone.
Now, I’m completely empathetic and compassionate about these feelings of his—I never minimize them or invalidate them or dismiss them. But, we’re also grooming an Elder here—an Elder who needs to show up to show others, to show the world, he’s still alive and wanting to enjoy a life and a family by doing things with them that are important.
So now we move the clock to Sunday morning:
Because of the family fun Saturday and the fact he didn’t nap at all, he ended up sleeping rather soundly and didn’t rise until after 8:15am—something very unusual for him. I started watching the clock right about then because the Mariner game was a “matinee” game with a start time of 1:10pm.
It’s 8:15ish:
Dad wakes and calls for me on the monitor. I know for sure he’s forgotten about the plan for the day so I have my own plan now about how I’m going to get him in the car and to the game when it’s time to go.
Me: Wow Dad, you slept great! I’ll bet you are SO rested and ready to take on a great day! I’m glad you’re up ‘cuz we’re gonna have to get moving pretty quick.
Dad: I’m not going to the game.
Conversation over.
Dammit.
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Now the “why it happened part.” And the how part. And the miraculous parts too.
Okay, Plan B.
In education, we call this “a diversionary pivot to change the topic and approach the original plan from a different direction.” Or in other words: “Quick, do something different!”
So we breakfast (muffin and oatmilk latte, duh). It’s getting closer to game time (or at least departure time when we need to leave the house). When he’s done with breakfast, I’m summoned again.
Me: [here we go! Plan B—I bring out the heavy guns! AKA: guilt! Remember, I was born Catholic!]: Okay Dad, we’re going to get ready and we’re going to the game because it’s too important. This isn’t about baseball, Dad (true story there). This is about doing things together with family. This is the promise I made when we wanted you here. Besides, I’ve already bought the tickets. So there.
Dad: [says nothing because he knows this is the truth—he’s been Eldered by his son just now, out-manuevered, and he knows he can’t do a damn thing about it—I’ve learned to out-stubborn a stubborn man. Plus, he’ll never disappoint family—so, this was likely more out of love for Kym! Or the fact he absolutely hates wasting money—he’ll give it away to anyone he meets, but he’ll never waste it.]
Regardless—I got him. And I got him in the car!
And then began a truly, truly amazing day—a day that felt, to all of us, as if the gods were smiling right at us and saying “We, the Universe, are going to grant you ease and clear your entire way so that you can truly enjoy being together with nothing spoiling your plan. Today you shall never forget. Today we create magic!”
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We sailed down I-405 into Seattle across the I-90 floating bridge, during SeaFair of all days, with hardly any traffic issues—I’m serious, like in RECORD time; with only a minor U-turn glitch, we got into the parking garage with ease and into a preferred/handicap reserved parking spot with skybridge access into the stadium; an elevator ride down to our 100 level seats; and an 85 degree day at the ballpark where Dad and I had comfy seats in the shade with a nice breeze and an amazing view of the game—the rest of the fam sat in our reserved seats in the full sun 21 rows up from the playing field!
Dad: These are the best seats in the whole place.
Me: Right Dad? This is amazing isn’t it?
Dad: [silent smile].
Dad: “These are the best seats in the whole place!” This is pre-game: I think there were about 34,000+ fans in total once the game started! And one Elder in training!
Grandpa and Kym
Kristin and Dad
Me: [With my arm around him as we sit side-by-side]: Dad, can you believe I’m at the ballpark with my Dad? We’ve NEVER done this just the two of us like this! It doesn’t get any better Dad!
Dad: And I can’t believe I’m at the game with my son.
[It was just me and Dad together in an amazing spot watching ball. The family did attend a Mariner game when mom was still alive a number of years ago—that was memorable too! But today, it was mostly me and my Dad side by side. If I’m honest, I really don’t remember much about the game.]
Son and Father
Oh okay…. Maybe the garlic fries helped (more than a little!):
Me: “Dad, I go to the restroom for just a sec and our shared fries are gone?”
Dad: “Those were good. What were they called again?” Me: “They were called ‘Father and Son’s shared garlic fries’ but apparently they weren’t named correctly.”
Granddaughter (Cassidy), Soon-to-be-grandson-in-law (Chris)!!! In Section 142, row 21, seats 9 and 10–and in the full sun!!! And not a single foul ball even close. But two beautiful people right there!!!
We had an amazing day at the ballpark—and Dad was happy.
At about the 7th inning, with the M’s up 6-3, we decided to beat the crowd and the rush to get out of the garage so we left. A great day, right? No way it can get better, right?
Remember when I said it was SeaFair weekend? Seattle’s biggest event with the hydroplane races on Lake Washington? The gods weren’t done with us yet—as we were heading back across the I-90 Bridge, these guys made an appearance:
THE BLUE ANGELS!!!
They literally flew, in their Diamond formation, full smoke, RIGHT SMACK OVER OUR CAR! (as you heard from both Kristin and Kym in the clip—the video courtesy of Kym as she was filming out the window, in the backseat, traveling over Lake Washington, on I-90!!! If you listen closely, you hear Dad: “Huh!”) Now, I do not believe in coincidences—so, this was a synchronistic reward, a gift, from the Universe to help us end a great day! Of COURSE it was going to happen exactly that way! I will go to my own grave believing The Blue Angels heeded a call: “Wally, we heard you were coming so this is for you—we honor you with this moment. This is our gift to you for so selflessly giving your family so much. For giving them the memory of today. YOU are our Elder. We salute you!”
Can you comprehend the timing of everything before this moment that had to happen for this to happen right as we were crossing the bridge? Naw, that’s not coincidence. Not after a day like today. The rest of the trip home was traffic free—we were riding a high.
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Oh yeah, and then dinner.
Dad: “Long as I get my peanut sauce spaghetti—I’m happy.” Kym: “Just don’t take it when I’m stuffing my face.”
Eldering 101:
It’s okay for Elders to not want to do things sometimes. But then, they remember that some things are bigger then themselves. Like Family. Like creating memories. Like legacy. And today, that’s what happened. Something bigger than himself happened. And the Universe responded.
And he was glad. He was proud of himself. He enjoyed today.
He was happy.
And WE will never forget it.
Thanks Dad. I know it wasn’t easy, but you did that for us. What a gift of love and time—together! What a gift…of you!
[And yes, he got his dessert after dinner too! WOW, the good times just kept a’comin’! Not even having mentioned the skydivers we saw at Harvey Field coming down in Snohomish as we passed by!]
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T plus 36 days…and counting. More like today please!!!
“Dad, let’s go create it!”
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Oh, and the Mariners won 6 to 3–we also saw a Mariner Grand Slam today!
Thanks for reading Kert’s Newsletter! Subscribe for free to receive new posts to stay engaged in Dad’s Journey home. And if you order garlic fries, keep an eye on them! Trust me, you’ll thank me later.
What an incredible gift of a day.
Fabulous Day for a Fabulous Family! Here's to many more!