7 Things Dad would want you to know

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This post has been sitting in my draft folder since December 2015, just a short month after Dad passed. It hasn’t felt right to publish it until now. ♡

*******

Dear Mom,

I’ve been thinking about you and Dad and our family.

In particular, I’ve been thinking about how Dad and I could just sit in the same room, not saying anything, yet somehow be on the same page. And I’ve been thinking about some of the conversations Dad and I have had over the years and I think there are at least seven things that Dad would want you to know.

I’ve listed them below in the form of a letter to you from Dad.

Meine Liebe Salat Schnecke,

1.       Don’t ever doubt how much I loved you

Remember our Wedding night? It wasn’t a fancy party. We did the best we could though and we had fun right? I can still see you running through the street singing in the middle of the night when you’d had a little too much to drink.

What the neighbours must have thought!

But I didn’t care, you seemed happy and honestly Margot, I may not have been able to express myself well, but that’s what I wanted for you. I always wanted you to be happy.

I knew how hard your life had been, I wanted to show you how good it could be.

Remember when we arrived in Canada and once we got on our feet a bit? You have no idea how happy it made me to see you eat butter, eat at a restaurant, eat fruit and cakes and whatever you could get your hands on. Remember that time I brought a dozen lemon donuts home when you were pregnant and you ate 11 of them? I didn’t mind that there was only one donut left for me.

It made me smile to watch you eat all the foods you missed in your childhood.

2.       Building our family

I know you were scared and so determined that our children would never be harmed like you had been. I was shocked that time you would even think I might hurt them but I grew to understand where this fear came from. I loved our kids – I would have done anything for them, and I think I was able to convince you of that with time, right?

No regrets Margot.  Don’t ever underestimate the value of what we were able to give our kids. Sure we weren’t perfect parents, we made mistakes along the way, but we did everything to the best of our ability for them and I think they turned out pretty good, don’t you?

3.       Our 50^th anniversary

Mom and Dad’s 50th Anniversary

Wasn’t that a fun party, Margot? I was so excited to celebrate with you. You looked so beautiful in that blue dress, I was so proud beside you in my new suit. And look how many friends came to celebrate with us!

And our trip to Germany! Yes Canada was our home now, but how wonderful it was to go to the place where we met and married to celebrate our 50^th.

4.       You were a real handful sometimes

A fighter. A hard worker. You had fire in your eyes!

Yeah there were times I wished you would just calm down, relax a little. Just let go of stuff, but maybe it was your pushing that got us as far as we got. And even when you were angry, I knew it was because you were afraid that things wouldn’t work out – those ghosts from the past were haunting you. I knew that you were fighting for the very best.

And you know what? I think I may have originally been drawn to that about you. You have spunk!

I mean who else would have moved to a new country, not knowing the language to start a new life with me? I chose well. You were the right partner for me.

You worked just as hard as me. Remember our job at that summer camp? Picking apples?  Making hats? And all the other jobs we had until I got that job at Kraft Foods and we bought our first home? And even then you cleaned houses to help out with the expenses. Yes we worked hard for what we built.

5.       Regrets

Maybe I could have been more supportive at times. Like when you were seasick on our voyage to Canada or when you broke your ankle. Maybe I could have told you more how much I appreciated you. I just never was one for words. But make no mistake; I was grateful and I really cared about you, even if I wasn’t very good at saying it.

6.       The last few years

I know how hard it was for you to watch me on the couch in pain. It was hard for me too. I wanted to be healed. And sometimes you made me angry when you pushed so hard for me to get up or exercise. But when I would think about it, I knew you were scared. I knew you meant well.

But the hardest thing, Margot was to see what my poor health was doing to you. You were so brave. That’s why I tried so hard to be brave too. That’s why I tried not to complain even when I couldn’t drive the car anymore. You did everything. I really wish I could have helped around the house more. I was so sure I would get better and things would go back to normal. But I didn’t. I’m so sorry things didn’t work out the way we had hoped. If I had known that I wouldn’t get better, perhaps we could have made arrangements that would have made the last years easier for both of us.

7.       Now that I’m gone

Our last few years together were hard, and I am so thankful for all you did for me. I know you’re sad and that you must grieve – after all we spent 56 years together, one doesn’t get over that quickly. But don’t just remember the last years. Remember the fun times. The family vacations. The German Club New Year’s dances. When I taught you how to drive. Those nights we walked around the block when the kids were in bed.

And don’t grieve too long. There is so much more for you to experience. Spend time with our kids, our grandkids, our wonderful friends. Get back out there doing the stuff you love to do. Simplify your life. Laugh, live and love. Life is far too precious to do otherwise. Grab onto life with both hands and enjoy it as much as you can. And know that when your time comes, I’ll be here, waiting for you.

Dein Mann, Heinz

Brummelbär

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“Dad had such a deep voice,” I said to my mom on the phone a few weeks back.

“Yes, that’s why I called him my Brummelbär (Brummel bear), his voice rumbled from deep within,” she replied with tenderness in her voice.

I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about dad lately, with Father’s Day and his birthday looming closer. I used to dread June because it brought Father’s Day, my brother’s birthday and my dad’s birthday, and when I didn’t have a lot of money, it seemed taxing to buy three cards and gifts in one month.

Man, what I wouldn’t give to have that worry back, to have dad back.

Yet, I can’t really complain. I was blessed for 52 years with the best possible man for me, as my father. He was a good man, a kind man, a peaceful man. And he loved us.

As best as I can tell Brummel means rumble. And mom’s right. His voice rumbled from deep within like a bear. And it remains in my heart, in my DNA it would seem, guiding me, and still brings me comfort when I most need it.

So glad I captured his voice in this video!

The Strength You Gave Me

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Margot with Diana

The more a daughter knows the details of her mother’s life […] the stronger the daughter.

― Anita Diamant, The Red Tent

On Mother’s Day I think of you. Of all the things you gave me. All the things you taught me. All the ways you sacrificed so I could have a good childhood.

And I did mom. So much better than the life you had as a child. I know you sometimes recount all the mistakes you think you made with us. But don’t you know that you gave so much more than you could ever have dreamt for yourself when you were a child? Don’t you know that you broke the cycle of alcoholism and abuse allowing your children to never have to know that torment?

And your strength, even now. Even in this time when you face the harsh reality you never dreamed would happen alone, instead of the plans you had with dad for your golden years, even now I see that strength. That strength you taught me in deed and in word. The strength that I have inside me because of you.

Thanks for that Mom.

Happy Mother’s Day.

~ DIANA’S ENORMOUS BOOK OF QUOTES ~

The Slippers

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I have an old, ugly pair of slippers from Wal-Mart.  They make a click-clack noise. The same kind of click-clack noise Dad’s favourite slippers used to make when he walked across the kitchen floor.

*******

Winter 2012

Michaela and I went back east to spend Christmas with family. Dad was wearing those slippers and click-clacking across the floor. The noise drove Mom crazy. The next time Dad reached for those slippers after a trip into Hawkesbury, they were gone.

In the garbage.

Mom had had enough.

So me and Michaela went to the Fairview Shopping Centre in Pointe Claire and found a pair of slippers for Dad at Old Navy. We’d intentionally picked silent slippers to avoid that click-clacking sound. We couldn’t wait to give them to Dad for Christmas. On Christmas Eve we handed the wrapped slippers to him. He opened the package and angrily tossed the slippers to the side. 

“I hate them.”

They weren’t his well-worn favourite slippers and they weren’t the kind you could just slip on either. You had to bend down and stick your finger in the back to get them on.

*******

How I wish you were still with us Dad, so we could get you the perfect slippers.

The kind you wouldn’t have to struggle to get on.

The kind you could just slip your feet into.

The kind that would click-clack across the kitchen floor and drive Mom crazy and cause that smile of defiant satisfaction to tug at the corners of your mouth…

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

The Ring With The Blue Stone

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My parents in 1960 and the ring with the blue stone

When you want to build something, you start with a good foundation. When you want to understand something, you start with the fundamental pillars of the subject. In other words, you learn the history, the mechanics of it, the whys and whats and wheres.

In the same way,  when you feel lost, it helps to go back to where you began so you can remember where you came from, what you have learned about this business of living, what you truly long for in life, and how you can get it and how you can share your gifts with the world. Sometimes you grab onto a symbol of the past and carry it with you like a talisman that you can look at, or touch when you need to be grounded.

Since Dad passed away, I’ve been in kind of a fog. I got the basics covered, you know…  I wake up, brush my teeth, shower, dress, exercise, go to work, eat, go to bed and start it all over again the next day. 

But I’ve lost a bit of my oomph.

A bit of my zest for life.

Dad was always my rock.

He had this way of making me feel secure and letting me know that he was there for me, no matter what.

My Plan B, if Plan A should fail.

Although I rarely resorted to Plan B, I knew I could if I had to, I knew it was there if I needed it.  

This past New Year’s Eve, as I was deciding which piece of jewelry to wear for an event I was attending, I came across the ring with the blue stone. The ring that cost forty dollars in 1960 and took Dad several weeks of saving so he could buy it for Mom to celebrate their first anniversary.

Dad was so upset when Mom gave me that ring almost thirty years later. But I’m so glad she did, so I could find it on the last day of 2016 and slip it on my finger. And with the wearing of it, remember the values he taught me and the traits he exemplified; like a good work ethic, empathy, diplomacy, loyalty and strength of character.  

What a gift!

What a great foundation from which to find my way again!

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

Those Blue Shorts Dad Used to Wear

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The other day in the early hours of the morning I was sleeping and in my dream Dad was waking me up. I opened my eyes and he was wearing those blue shorts he used to wear and an undershirt. It was a younger version of Dad and he was handing me a gift…

I woke up thinking, I got to remember this dream and the gift. Later in the day I’d forgotten the gift. I should have written it down when I woke up.

“Those blue shorts. Man I saw him clear as day in that dream,”  I thought to myself. And then yesterday after work,  I remembered I had a picture of him, wearing those shorts and an undershirt!

Mom was always good at taking pictures. I still joke that if I go to the bathroom, I have to lock the door to prevent Mom from coming in to take a picture. But back in 1985, Mom and Dad came to visit me in Pinantan Lake. They’d flown to Calgary, rented a car and drove through the Rocky Mountains to see me.

Mom with Dad wearing those blue shorts and undershirt

Dad, me and Mom at Paul Lake

Me, Shannon and Dad

Mom and Dad on the last day of their visit to Pinantan Lake

It occurs to me as I write  this post, that Dad was two years younger than I am today back then and in my dream it’s sort of like two peers connected for a moment in time. And maybe that’s all the gift I really need to remember. I miss you so much Dad, thanks for visiting in my dreams.

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

Have you ever looked at picture of your parents at the age you are now and wondered what it would have been like to hang out with them as peers?

My First Father’s Day Without You

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I’m thirsty Dad.

Nice to meet you Thursday. I’m Friday, come over Saturday and we’ll have a Sunday.

Heinz Schwenk

Today is my first Father’s Day without you. The beginning of many firsts without you. Yes, I’m a bit sad about that Dad, but I don’t want to talk about that today. Because I am the luckiest woman in the world.

I am incredibly grateful for having had you in my life. You always made me feel so important and cherished. From day one I knew you were in my corner; even when I was wrong.

You’ve only been gone seven months. Gone yet not really gone. I still see you everywhere. I catch a glimpse of you in the mirror. You grace me with your presence in my dreams. And Dad, the other day an older gentleman who had your walk and your playful facial expression stopped in his tracks and looked at me. It made me smile. I know how blessed I was to have you as my father.

You’re in a better place now, free from pain.

I know you’re ok Dad.

And I want you to know I’m ok too, thanks to you.

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

Possess A Second Soul

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To have another language is to possess a second soul.

Charlemagne

One of the things that I am most grateful for is that my parents taught my brother and I German.

We’re first generation Canadian. My parents immigrated to Canada in 1960. Three years later I was born and sixteen months after that my brother was born.

Mom and Dad spoke only German at home. We didn’t learn English until we went to school. I had a German accent up until about Grade Four. Mom recently apologized for only speaking German when we were little, but I’m so grateful to know the language.

As luck would have it, we lived in the Montreal area in Quebec, so Mike and I were also exposed to French. Before I came out west I could pretty much speak and understand French. I’ve since lost most of it, but when I visit Montreal, within days I understand what French-speaking people are saying. Mike is still perfectly fluent.

There is something really special about knowing more than one language. It opens up more of the world.

It does kind of feel like possessing another soul.

~ DIANA’S ENORMOUS BOOK OF QUOTES ~

Do you know a second language?

Happy Mother’s Day Mom!

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Margot with Diana

No language can express the power, and beauty, and heroism, and majesty of a mother’s love. It shrinks not where man cowers, and grows stronger where man faints, and over wastes of worldly fortunes sends the radiance of its quenchless fidelity like a star.

Edwin Hubbell Chapin

For making our lives a 1000 times better than yours had been.

For baking a European-quality cake every Sunday and feeding it to us for breakfast with a vitamin every morning.

For preparing delicious home-cooked meals every day and cooking our favourite meal on our birthdays.

For reading to us every night. For singing ‘You are my Sunshine.’ For brushing my hair while we watched TV. For helping us with our homework. For teaching us manners, good work ethic, respect, honesty and integrity.

For making sure that we went on outings to get fresh air by visiting the zoo, going on a picnic, going to the park, going to the beach, going on a bike ride, taking a walk and so many other things. Things that you did not experience as a child.

For all these things and more, thank you and Happy Mother’s Day Mom!

~ DIANA’S ENORMOUS BOOK OF QUOTES ~

The Red Dress

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L-R Arno, Dad, me, Mom

“Your Uncle Arno is coming to Canada at the beginning of September, so I want you to come at the same time,” said Dad on the phone late in the summer of 2015.

“Well, actually Dad I was thinking of coming in October or maybe Christmas.”

“No. Arno and I discussed it. And we agree. You should come at the beginning of September.”

That’s odd, I thought to myself. Dad has never been one to assume I would be able to fly back east and visit. He’s more of a hey-it’s-been-a-while-when-do-you-think-you’ll-be-able-to-visit-again kinda guy. So I was somewhat taken aback at his directness.

Still, Dad never asked for much, and it seemed important to him, so I agreed to fly back east to visit them for a week and booked a flight for September 1.

It was still like summer in Calgary on that first day of September so I wore sandals and the red dress I’d bought in the Dominican when Mom and I had vacationed there a few years back and waited for the cab to take me to the airport.

Uncle Arno picked me up at the Pierre Elliot Trudeau airport in Montreal and after visiting with my brother and his family on the west island, we headed out to my parents place in East Hawkesbury.

Dad was lying on the couch when I got there. He’d been suffering with severe back pain for some time and the only relief he had was when he laid down.

I went into the living room to say hi. I talked about this and that and all the while he had this goofy smile on his face. “What?” I finally said.

“You’re wearing a dress. You hardly ever wear a dress. You look beautiful.”

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

Dad was taken by ambulance to the hospital on October 28th.  I flew out and visited with him on November 6th. Before we left his room, we made plans to go see him again the next day, but he passed away that same night. Dad thank you for insisting that I attend the September family reunion!

related post: It was like a Schwenkonsortium!