Perspective II

All of this thinking about perspective lead me to realize that I now have a different perspective of Dad.

Now that he is gone, I cannot begin to explain the importance of each memory of Dad. I also cannot begin to count how many times ever day I think, “I should call Dad and ask him about . . .” and then it hits me all over again . . . he’s gone. That resource is exhausted. Permanently. So he is now a part of the fixed past. Nothing I can do about that.

I also find myself looking at the world through his perspective. For instance, a few weeks ago our furnace went out. Immediately I thought, “Call Dad.” But after wincing, I thought “okay, what would Dad do? What would he check? Who would he call? Would he stay home to make sure the work was really done? Would he watch them so he could fix it next time?” It was odd trying to see the world through his eyes.

This struck again Monday night. Kristie’s brother parked his car in our garage along with our new blazer. This left me having to park my car outside. This wasn’t a problem, or so I thought, because I have a block heater. After grabbing a suitable heavy duty extension cord, I reached down to plug it in. However, the plug in to the block heater wasn’t there. I crawled under the car. No luck. Then it hit me, “Dad must have tucked it away when he was changing oil last summer.” So after 15 minutes of searching all over for it, I stormed into the house frustrated. “Well, Dad must have tucked it away and now he’s dead!” I said when Kristie looked at me and asked if I had any luck finding it.

I was angry, but what good would that do. So now during the light of day, I have to crawl under the car and see if I can't locate that damned plug in.