DAD, WHY IS THE WORLD?
This Saturday’s ice skating class was nothing to write home about. He skated. He fell. He rested. He scuttled on his hands and knees to the exit when the buzzer sounded.
Still, he was very excited about how well he skated. Were we at the same lesson? What? As I unlaced his skates and tugged them off his feet he asked me something quite profound. “Dad, why is the world? And why are we in it? And then a pause and then added the cherry on top, “And why is it spinning?”
“Conor, those are amazing questions. And you know what, nobody really knows the answers.” “Not even you, Dad?” And in that moment, I realized just how tall my son must think I am.
I laughed, “Nope, not even me, buddy. Now let’s go see how Mom’s doing.” And he ran out the locker room door to find mom. I gathered up his equipment and wondered who my boy will be when he grows up.
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MY DAD COULDN'T BREATHE
“What do you mean he can’t breathe?” I asked my sister. “Dad had to go to the hospital but is okay now. But he’s too tired to have the whole family come visit. It’s just too much,” she said as she choked back tears.
Understandable. Conor is 4 years old and exhausts both my wife and me. Imagine what he could do to an 84-year old man with compromised lungs after smoking his whole life.
I bit the bullet. Bought the ticket. And flew from Boston to Austin. My sister and I packed up her car and headed for San Benito.
We gossiped. Griped. Laughed. And wondered. What would life be like if we lived closer. Before you know it, 7 hours had passed. We had arrived.
“Dad, you look great!” I said, since he looked completely normal. “Well, I can breathe again,” Dad said with his usual dry humor.
I called the family to let them know all was okay with Grandpa Texas. We used Facetime so Conor could see him. Conor says, “Hi grandpa Texas. I heard your lungs weren’t feeling well. Are you okay?”
“Sure, I’m okay,” he said as he lifted his arms up in a sign of victory. Conor says, “Good, then dad you can come back home tonight.” I sure do love my boy.
Three more days of comfort, laughs and memories to store away. Good Mexican food. And a few prayers that this wouldn’t be the last time I’d see my dad alive.
“Sister Ko, you sure you don’t want me to drive?” “Nah, I’ve got this bro,” my sister said as we left the immigration checkpoint in our rear view mirror. Seven hours blew by and we were back in Austin.
Next day, back in Boston. How does it all go so fast? “Hey Conor. Hey Val, I’m back.” We hugged and we were one again. And now, it’s our turn to breathe easier.
MY DAD MEETS CONOR FOR THE FIRST TIME
It's been 10 months since my son was born and I have to admit, I was looking forward to Conor finally meeting my dad. I get frustrated thinking that it took this long to make it happen but with work, travel and planning, here we are and that's all there is to it.
To think my 10 month old would somehow recognize his grandpa having never seen him before would be folly but I still wish he hadn't looked at my dad like he was a complete stranger. I wish he wouldn't have shied away as I brought him right up to my dad to say hi. If my dad was disappointed he didn't show it. He just chuckled and told his grandson that it was good to finally meet him. We then piled into the Jeep and headed home. Once home, grandpa got busy with the pinto beans that have been cooking slowly for a few hours, put some pork on the grill and mixed up some cornbread from cornmeal and tossed it in the oven. I snuck a taste of the beans and gave half a bean to Conor. Here we are just after stealing a taste. Conor's starting to warm up to his grandpa but is still not quite sure. But then again, those pinto beans taste pretty good. Grandpa can't be all that bad.