Taking things for granted is something everybody does from time to time. I was just thinking to myself, in a most idealistic fashion, that I don't take things for granted anymore. That's not really true. Living in a state of acute gratitude for the things and people you hold dear would be exhausting. It's natural to become comfortable with the blessings you have in life. Life can be cruel in that it will lull you into comfortable complacency, but then everything can change in an instant. I know this isn't a very insightful or original thought. Still, it kind of feels that way when you're the one it happens to.
I took my dad for granted. There's no two ways about it either; he was as much a part of my life as the air in my lungs. If you can imagine the way you appreciate the ability to aspirate, that's similar to how constant a presence my dad was. If I haven't mentioned it yet, I lived with Dad for years before his death. Maybe I've said something about that, I don't know. Who wants to edit my blog for continuity?
Life with Dad was basic, just the way we liked it. In retrospect it's easy to see that he did most of the work at home. My jobs were to keep my own room clean, cut the lawn, buy food for the cats, vacuum the house, and to do the dishes. Dad cooked almost all of the time. That isn't to say that we always ate dinner together or at the same time. There were plenty of nights where I put my own dinner together. The things we ate weren't fancy or particularly healthy all the time. Shepherd's pie was one of my favorites. Dad grilled a perfect pork chop on a regular basis. He liked to grill because the food was delicious and there were less dishes. Occasionally Dad would cook a new recipe. Sometimes "recipe" was a flexible concept because he liked to put together things that sounded good. He had varying degrees of success with this. Despite how much of a "foodie" I am, I always enjoyed the way we ate. Every so often Dad and I would muse about getting a real cook book so we could try some new things. That was never a major priority for either of us, so it didn't really happen.
Living in this house, the same house I lived with my father in, is a near constant reminder of him. Coping with that is surprisingly easy most of the time. One of the many things Dad taught me through the way he lived is that the world doesn't stop for anything. If things need to get done, that's just kind of what needs to happen.
A decent portion of what I feel was "taking my dad for granted" has to do with my normal day-to-day now. This past weekend I was mowing the lawn and noticed that I had to stoop to avoid the branches of one of our trees. An hour later I had half a garbage can full of branches and a lawn I still had to finish mowing. This same thing has actually happened the last two times I've mowed the lawn. We have a few trees and now I'm the only one here to keep them tidy. Anything like this (that is really just part of having a yard to care for) ends up reminding me how much I relied on my dad. Back when he was the guy trimming the trees the house was his, but I lived there and should have helped more. I'm not talking major regrets here, I just think I understand how much he really had to do (and did) at home.
Taking someone for granted isn't strictly limited to the domestic tasks they do within your sphere of living. Probably the worst way I under-appreciated Dad was emotionally. The way we were is shocking to me now because I am always brimming over with things I wish I could share with him. Our reality was simply that we didn't talk a lot. I didn't share life's mundane details with him. We talked about activities, things that were out of the ordinary. Many conversations were about motorcycles or new parts. Dad was constantly reading on a website called Adventure Rider. He loved sharing stories he'd read about trans-continental bike treks. There were guys that would ship their motorcycle overseas just so they could ride from point A to point B. I could tell these epic journeys spoke to my dad in a special way. He never really shared things with me that were ordinary. In concept that sounds fun, but the reality was that we ended up not talking much. Now I'd cut off a limb just to sit and listen to Dad talk about heated riding gloves or what it's like riding a motorcycle through South America.
Not talking to a person you love and live with isn't a great idea. There's too much I don't know about the man I miss every day. Sudden departures like his are always unfair because up to that point I thought we had more time. Time is by far the worst thing I took for granted and it haunts me constantly.
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