Father's Day

When I was a little girl, my stomach often bothered me. It is not surprising that I would have diarrhea or vomit, that my stomach would hurt. My mother would say it was the flu, but looking back I don't think it was very often the flu. Our home was a scary place. My mother was a scary person. My stomach hardly ever hurts anymore. I have a good life, one where there is no reason to be upset or scared or sad. I can't even remember the last time I threw up.

My father died a week before my 18th birthday, which means he has been gone for a long time. I remember the first time I was ill and threw up, after he was gone. I was an adult person, and I had never thrown up by myself. He would always go in the bathroom with me, and hold my head, and keep my hair out of the way. Throwing up is scary. There is a lack of control to it that frightened me, but he was always there to stay with me so that I didn't have to throw up alone. He would help me rinse out my mouth, brush my teeth, and he would get a cool washcloth for me. It was comforting.

I remember when I was married, telling my husband at the time that story, and he looked at me strangely and said, "Susie, I am not going to do that." He thought throwing up was icky, which it is. And I didn't ask him to, but I would have liked it if he would have held my head while I threw up.

Is that weird? That it is one of the tenderest memories of my father. He was not an affectionate man. I remember being a little girl, and jumping up in his arms, or getting on his lap, but like a lot of fathers, once I got to be a little older, he kept his distance from me. He didn't hug often, and I can't ever remember him saying, "I love you," although without a doubt, I felt loved by him.

I hug a lot. Not random strangers, but the people I love get hugs. I say, "I love you" a lot. One of the wonderful young women I work with gave a week's notice that she was quitting her job. Management doesn't communicate well, so no one told me. A few people knew that yesterday was her last day. When she told me, I felt so sad. I adore her, not just because she is a valued member of my team, but she is a lovely person. I said, "Oh, Daniela...." and hugged her. She said, "This is why I didn't tell you until today, Susan. I knew you would do this, and then I would cry, and I couldn't do this for a week."

It is just the way I am. If you have to throw up, just tell me and I'll be that person who goes into the bathroom with you and holds you so you don't have to throw up by yourself. You don't even have to be very careful not to get it on me, because sometimes vomit is projectile and you have no control. I just don't want you to be alone and scared. I'll change my clothes if I need to.

Maybe you prefer to be alone when you throw up, and I will respect that. I try to be respectful, but I really want to help. I don't want you to be scared and alone. And I guess when I say that, what I am really saying is that I don't want to be scared and alone.

So this is my Father's Day post. This is what my dad meant to me; that when he was there I was not alone and I was not scared. Every child should be so lucky.

Susan