Moving On Without Dad

My dad died when I was 21. I was still growing up and needed a dad, even though I had moved out on my own. Father's Day wasn't too bad; I was in a student single's ward. The only families that attended the ward were the bishopric's families. But the Father's Day sale ads were hard. I didn't have a dad to buy for anymore. And I had wish I had taken advantage of the gift giving while my dad was still alive. Maybe the reason I was so forgetful was Father's Day was always after school got out for the summer.

When I was 22, I joined a LDS sorority at Salt Lake Institute of Religion, even though I wasn't a student. One of the activity was a daddy daughter date. Most of the young women were able to bring their fathers since they either lived at home or not far from home. I asked Uncle Victor, my mom's uncle to be my dad for the evening. My mom would always visit him and his wife when we came to Salt Lake, so it made the choice a lot easier.  I felt a lot less awkward having him there.
I don't remember any other activities that involved a dad, except for maybe celebrating Father's Day at church when I attended a regular single's ward. Usually during sacrament meeting on the third Sunday in June,the assigned topic for talks would be about fathers. It didn't bother me too much, unless one of the opening or closing hymns was "O My Father" which was sung at my dad's funeral.  The first time, I heard it I made a bee line for the ladies room as soon I heard the person who was praying said Amen. Even after I attended a regular ward, I would wait until the opening prayer was said before going into the chapel if I noticed the opening hymn was "O My Father".
After 15 or 20 years, I got tired of not being able to celebrate Father's Day.  So I sent my younger brother, Steven flowers. He is dad and that act took some pain away. Steven doesn't always get a Father's present and when he does, it usually isn't flowers.

Since my mom's death I have another father figure. Not so much in my life, even though Jay, my youngest brother does drive me to Costco and other places. Jay has been my oldest brother's caregiver. Every month, Jay drives to the Magic Valley every month to buy Mike groceries and other things that are needed. During the warmer months, he does yard work. We all help out financially, but Jay contributes the most time to Mike's care.
The ads for Fathers Day are getting less painful, probably because I can delete from my email immediately instead of stuffing the ads behind the rest of the newspaper. And heck, it's been awhile since my dad's been away. Life does go on.

How Mother Teresa got through to me

Mother Teresa once said “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.”  In the past year I have seen the wisdom in what Mother Teresa said. Instead of sharing the experience that caused me reflect on what she said, I will share another experience.

UTA has three change days a year, in April, August and December. One August Thursday, I waited for the bus that never came. Since it was the first week of the change, I didn’t have a bus schedule with me, so I had no clue when the next bus would come. I called UTA to complain about the problem. The customer service was able to tell me when the next bus would arrive. She also told me that the drivers were new to the route. The driver that never came had been the driver on Tuesday and Wednesday, so I told the rep that the driver wasn’t new enough to get lost, unless it was a different driver. But it wasn’t because the next Thursday, it was the same brassy blonde on Tuesday and Wednesday and the Friday before.

The second Friday, this driver missed my stop again. Of course, I called UTA again to report the problem. I wanted to know if the bus had broken down, but the rep couldn’t say because this driver did not have on GPS. The bus she drove was one of the older buses.

When the next Tuesday came, I was convinced the driver knew it was me who complained about her no shows twice. She seemed to be less friendly toward me. So after a week or two, I started taking Trax from work and catching another bus at the Trax station to get home. As I rode Trax, I would watch her bus as she headed toward my work and then on the bus heading home, I would look for her again as she drove to the Trax station, just to see if she was running on time. Once, as I was heading home, the driver on the bus I was riding waved to her and she did just stared straight ahead. If looks could kill, the driver in the vehicle ahead of her would have been dead. (She wasn’t looking at the driver of the bus I was riding, so he would have escaped death.) I nicknamed the brassy blonde driver “Stoneface”

During this time, I was taking the bus from work on Monday. The driver was always on time. My ride home on Mondays was quicker than taking Trax from work and not because the driver was on time. It takes an hour with Trax as part of the route home, where just taking the bus home from work is forty minutes. So I decided in October to give this brassy blonde “Stoneface” driver another chance. I noticed that once I stopped finding fault with her that she improved. No, this brassy blonde didn’t change her behavior, but my opinion of her changed. What Mother Teresa said was true, if you judge someone, you have no time to love them. And you are most likely not able to see the good in the person.