June will mark the fourth anniversary of my dad's passing.
Even after all this time, it's still not always easy for me to write about him, particularly regarding the last two years of his life, when he was growing increasingly tired of doctor's appointments, of getting poked and prodded and advised on what to eat, and when mom and I were struggling to keep our chins up while trying to keep him motivated to continue fighting.
In fact, this Caregiver's Diary series started in July of 2021, and the first entry was about him. Outside of the newspaper column I wrote about his passing in June 2022, as well as his obituary, the next time I wrote about him, as far as a diary entry goes, was Christmas 2022.
But while writing about his health issues and my co-caregiver experiences with him is hard, one thing I would like to talk about is one of the best life lessons he ever taught me.
SEE ALSO (VIP): Caregiver's Diary Part 48: Missing Dad
Like most parents, some lessons my dad would try to teach me were the ones that were obvious, like after I got my first car, one of the first things he did was to show me how to check the oil. Another was him teaching me how to use the riding mower - how to start it, change the gears, engage the blades, put gas in it, and all that.
There were also the self-defense lessons from both him and mom, the tips and tricks they taught me for trying to get out of a potentially dangerous situation (which they tried to prevent to the extent they could by giving me an early curfew, which I, of course, grumbled about at the time, like any know-it-all teenager).
And who could forget the gardening lessons he tried to teach little ol' me all those years ago?
At mom and dad's to wish this guy a happy #FathersDay. Each one becomes more precious and special. Love you, Papa T.! ❤ pic.twitter.com/ENhS2C4peP
— Sister Toldjah 💙 (@sistertoldjah) June 17, 2018
But there were other lessons learned that came more from quietly observing my dad's everyday interactions with random people than from him specifically saying something along the lines of "This is what you're going to learn today."
My dad never met a stranger. Ever. We could stop to get gas in his truck, and he'd strike up a conversation with the person in front of us who was also gassing up their vehicle. The same thing would happen with cashiers in the grocery store or mechanics at a car repair shop. He loved talking to people, getting to know them, and occasionally passing along some dadly wisdom or words of advice. And whenever he could, he would witness to people.
He could be sitting in the wooden swing that we used to have in the front yard, and have people in the neighborhood, some of whom we barely knew or didn't know at all, slow down to chit chat with him, to talk about the vegetable garden, or how nice the yard looked. He and one neighbor who voted for Barack Obama even got along, though dad would remind him every once in a while what a bad choice he made. Dad was not remotely shy about expressing his political opinions. ;)
I realized at some point that Dad's purpose in going to the swing wasn't always to get peace and quiet from a house full of women; it was done in hopes of getting to shoot the breeze with folks beyond the family circle as a way to not only get himself through the day, but also for his emotional and spiritual enrichment.
And one of the especially cool things about it was that I rarely saw someone he was talking to not be receptive to the casual conversation. People genuinely liked talking to him, even if they didn't know him.
My mom never met a stranger, either, but you'd expect that from her. I've even joked before that I'd bet mom was born laughing, smiling, and thanking the doctors instead of crying. But it's not something one would have expected from my dad, who on the surface had the same rough-around-the-edges, gruff demeanor one would expect from someone who experienced a lot of challenges growing up and finding his way in life.
But dad was a talker, and most of the folks he talked to got a kick out of listening to him.
The lesson I learned from this is that one of the easiest ways to find joy in unexpected ways is to strike up a conversation with someone randomly and show kindness to them. It's something I do as often as I can, and my life is much better for it. And who knows? You might make some new, potentially lifelong friends along the way. :)
Thanks, dad-o, for that precious gift. It's one that keeps on giving.
DIVE DEEPER: To check out my previous Caregiver's Diary entries, please click here. Thank you!
