Boys of Summer book Entry #44

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Interviewing my sister (Dallas)

Bob:
What did you think of the news stories?

Sis:
I thought it was interesting that Dad wasn’t aware of what his condition looked like. I mean, I know when you’re with yourself every single day, you’re not necessarily aware of subtle changes and over time the things he remarked about, the way his mouth was, the way he holds himself, I was a little surprised that it surprised him so much.

It felt sad to me because it felt like he was acknowledging a new level of the disease and it’s progression. There was a reality that I don’t think he had moved into and  it was hard to see him move into it.

Bob:
What’s your memory of dad as a dancer?

Sis:
(laughs)
The gator. When he’d throw himself on the floor and wiggle around on his back. When he’d twist around with mom. Yeah. always just wild.

Bob:
Did you know he can’t keep a beat anymore?

Sis:
Wow. No I wasn’t aware of that. I’m so used to seeing people not be able to keep a beat at work I guess I didn’t even recognize it. (laughs) the only couple of times I did look out into the audience was when my side of the audience was screaming against the other side and he was standing up with his hands in the air.

I have to remind myself of the dad in the form I used to know him. He doesn’t -- Every time I’m around him I catch a memory or a glimpse of that. I think the first time was when we were in Vegas, when we had our reunion. We went to see “Finding Nemo” and I saw that (slack-jawed/frozen) look for the first time. And I had been warned by both you and Aunt Denise, but as I saw him my first thought was, “That’s not my dad”. That’s not what I remember.

I’m getting more used to it. But just seeing him, tonight, he just looked so frail. He looked frail to me. I saw him on the couch with his legs up and I felt like I could envision him in a hospital with his legs up like that. I know that sounds pretty dramatic, but I could envision that. And I was trying to remember dad as a runner and dad as a tennis player, and dad as an avid athletic full-of-life person. And, that dad is no longer. So it’s kind of a, kind of a slow death. And every time I see him I process a little more of it.

Bob:
What is the core of dad at this point for you?

Sis:
Almost an innocence. He seems like he’s aware and accepting of his condition and with a sense of humor will say, “well, I can still tie my shoes” and “ I can still put on my pants.” Like he’s still trying to be very optimistic. At his core I guess he’s still trying to keep it together. He’s trying to do all the things he wants to. I think as long as he’s golfing, things are okay. The day that goes away, I think it’s going to be  a very tough loss. Golf has been a thread of normalcy throughout his life. He still cooks and he still plays golf. As for activities, those are both threads that have run through his life. I think as long as he can do that, he’ll be okay.

I would call him a passive fighter. He is aware and open but not vigilant. And not aggressive. But open to ideas. If things came to him or in a way which he can grasp them, he’s open. But I don’t necessarily see that he’s out for every possible solution that’s out there.

I’ve always known dad to just kind of roll with what comes. He doesn’t try to make it one way or another. It just is what it is. I don’t know that he is the kind of person who is the “chart my own destiny, make my own path” kind of person. I think he kind of set on a path and went with it.

Bob:
What are your early baseball memories with dad?

Sis:
I remember when dad took me to get my first glove. We probably went to Big 5 because that’s where we always went to get sports equipment -- especially on sales days; those were big days to get shoes. It was a Spalding glove . And there was such a small section of lefty gloves. It was one of my first realizations that I lived in a smaller world than the righties and had fewer choices. He showed me how to put a ball in it and put the oil/conditioner on it and wrap it overnight with a rubber band. I don’t remember us playing catch. We had a pitch back -- kind of a trampoline. Other than that, I don’t really remember playing with dad. I remember him coming to my games. We played whiffle ball in the back yard some days.

Bob:
What do you think of the trip dad and I are taking?

Sis:
Exciting. I think it’s a full circle move spiritually and otherwise. It’s something you set out for a long time ago. I don’t want to talk about the disease in terms of “it’s going to be this way” or “it has to be this way”. I don’t really look for outcomes in things. I hope that dad feels that he connects with you on a deeper level, that he finds some more peace with himself and other members of his community -- that he has a deeper sense of community. So that there’s not as much loneliness in it. I hope that he laughs a lot and has a lot of fun. I hope that you guys can create something that will be timeless.

Bob:
If dad didn't wake up tomorrow, would you be  at peace with him?

Sis:
Yeah. I love my dad. I had such a great opportunity early in my recovery to make amends for the things I felt like were shortcomings as his daughter. And then to go full circle again, with me going out of the family and then coming back into the family, I think that was the biggest peace that I’ve arrived at  and his response to my coming back into the family, those were words I’ve always wanted to hear. As much as I’ve wanted more from dad, he’s made peace with what is.

What frustrates me is I’m not a “what is” person. I’m more of a “okay, that’s what is -- I want more”, I think that’s who I am. I think that’s probably where my conflict with dad came from. “How could you be at peace with this? It could be different.” And he’s always been, “It is what it is”. Neither way is right or wrong but I’m sure that’s where some of our conflicts have come from.

I remember when I came back into the family, that really strong sense of, all dad ever wanted was for me to be just me. He just wanted me to be happy and be part of the family. I mean, dad has never asked for more. I remember when we talked for the first time about me being gay. I remember him saying, “you’ve chosen a really tough life.” and I think other than that, the only way we can show we love another person is to respect their choices whether we agree with them or not. Ever since that issue came up, it’s never been about agreeing or disagreeing, it’s been about respecting. Which is probably a pretty high level place when you think about it.

I think if there was one more thing I want to say to dad, I just want to say that I love him. He’s taught me so much through example to do, or show me things I might do differently. I would miss him because I think he’s just a great person. And I want more time. But that’s not my call. That’s going to happen when it happens. I guess I’m at peace with him, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be sad. (she starts to cry) He’s the only dad I’ve got and I finally got here. I just want more time.

But that’s the way it is, it had to go the way it went. And I don’t regret it. I’m just, you know, this is some journey for some reason. I just want more time. He’s still very sharp. If anything, it just might be the confidence or maybe the fear of not being understood. I still feel like he engages very well in conversation and is mentally sharp. I still very much appreciate that. Physically, maybe we can’t do some of the things we used to do -- I guess we could go miniature golfing, but -- we can’t play tennis, say. Not like we used to play all the time or anything.

I don’t feel like there’s anything left unsaid. I know he’s extraordinarily proud of me. And I know he loves me. And I’m so glad he’s my dad. And I know he knows that I love him. I
don’t know what else I could want.

The Boys of Summer continue roll along - for the latest please see our website.