SANDRA DEMPSEY POST

Perhaps it’s continuing effects from isolation caused by COVID or maybe turning another year older. Whatever the cause, I’m missing my parents very much. The sadness is deep even though my Dad passed away in 1992 and my Mom in 1998. I’ve had years to accept and adapt, but that feeling of absence still exists, more so at certain times. Sometimes reminiscing helps. Perhaps it helps others who also find May and Mother’s Day challenging, with Father’s Day following in June. We never really quit missing our parents; we just learn to emulate their life lessons.

My Dad was not a disciplinarian. Not that he didn’t have high expectations, he did, but he wasn’t a rule enforcer. For difficult decisions, he’d typically say, “Go ask your Mother.” Often an easy touch, he’d speak up if he felt strongly about something.

I remember walking home from grade school with my friends and one girl mentioned casually her Dad had built a stereo for their family. I was stunned as I knew instantly my Dad could never, ever build anything. Years later I understood father and daughter were genetically matched when it came to mechanical competency. He humbly accepted his lack of certain skills, even joking about them. He never pretended to be smarter or better, but he knew about being grateful and content. His life reflected his faith and love of people, and I continue appreciating his example. When I was 9 years old, my Mother decided I must learn to iron. She wanted to teach me independence should tragedy strike making her unable to care for me. I was willing to take my chances since she seemed quite healthy to me, but I knew it was better to comply than complain. I became quite proficient at ironing and other tasks she assigned me. She never bought into my insistence that none of my friends had such jobs to do. My Mother was kind, helpful, loving and strict. I vowed to parent more leniently. Amazing how parenting perspectives change when decades later the child becomes the parent. Even my mother sometimes defended my children privately to me. She softened as a Grandma. I have also.

Both parents taught me about independence, generosity, compassion, faith, and doing the best job possible. We didn’t always agree on every issue, and sometimes we agreed to disagree, but we always listened to each other’s opinions. Sometimes, usually slowly at first, we could see a side different from our own original perspective.

My Dad was the dispenser of smiles and cheer as a salesman for many years, and later as the congenial photographer at the Driver’s License Bureau. He thrived on greeting people and sending them home with “the best picture ever” smiling back at them on their driver’s license. He suffered a heart attack on his 79th birthday and died five days later, leaving behind a legacy of good will and happy memories. My Mom lived independently in their home for four years and when her health suffered, she lived with my husband and me until her death two years later. Together my parents instructed me about important things I needed to know, except how to best adapt to their absence in my life. I’m still learning.