Today is Father’s Day. I’m trying to remember any of the Father’s Days that I spent with my dad, but I can’t. I think that’s because of my memory loss from ECT. Years ago, my mom made several DVDs for everyone in the family that are all about the entire family. Maybe I could watch some of those videos today to have them help bring back some memories. However, they could make me more emotional than I am, and I really don’t want to deal with that right now.
I think I’ll keep myself busy today by cleaning. Staying busying keeps my mind from wandering sometimes. It gives me something to focus on, which can be helpful. A memory of my father just came to me, and I’ll try to write about it, but I am tearing up a bit. I would practice playing the piano just about every day. My dad would come in and sit in the big white leather swivel chair. He would sit there, listening to me, and he would put his arms up as if he was a conductor, conducting an entire orchestra. He would do that all the time. He loved it when I would play Fur Elise and Flight of The Bumblebee. He’s probably the reason why I love classical music.
My dad and I used to go skiing together. He would even fly me out to mountains that were a couple of hours away, such as Sugarloaf, Sugarbush, Whiteface, etc. I remember one day he woke me up very early and asked me if I wanted to go skiing. He made sure I didn’t have any tests that day in school, and then we got dressed and went to his airport (where he kept his plane). I can’t remember which mountain we went to that day, but I do remember skiing and having lunch together in the ski lodge.
I also remember that any time my mom would go away for the day, my dad would have us clean the house so it was clean when she got home. The funniest part of it is that he would sit in the family room reading the newspaper while my brother, my sister, and I would clean. Then, when my mom got home, he would say, “I cleaned the house for you.” That used to annoy me, but now it makes me smile.
I used to hang out with my dad in the break room of his pharmacy. He always wore a white shirt at the store and a pocket protector. Everyone knew my dad, and he was friends with everyone. His employees and his friends would hang out in the break room drinking coffee and telling jokes. I never understood what they were saying because I was so young, but I had a great time simply being there with my dad.
So I do have some memories of my dad; ECT didn’t wipe them all out. I still don’t remember any specific Father’s Day, but that’s okay. As long as I can still hold onto the wonderful memories that I do have, I will be happy. Happy Father’s Day.