I Keep Learning from My Dad

I have a vivid picture of my Dad walking to his car. Carefully locking his door, it was a short stint from his studio apartment to the elevator. Waiting for the elevator to come to his floor - it was the 12th floor, or the 11th, some double digit if my memory still serves me.

The building was home to drug dealers and hard working immigrants, and seniors squeaking by on their pensions. Some depended on a wheelchair to get around. It was in the news the time that someone was held up at gunpoint on the elevator. 

An elevator ride, a visit with whomever was at the front desk. There were stops along the way, part of his daily ritual.  

It was about a 15 or 20 minute event to get from his place to the car. Dad's limp was from an old injury. Life had been wearing down on him since he was young.

I miss that walk to his car with Dad hobbling, listening to his rhythm, warm sunshine most always coming through the cracks of his human-ness. 

There was time enough for us to share. Calling on that memory reminds me of the place he has always in my heart. 

You might call someone to mind that "has loved you into being," as Mr. Rogers said. Drawing on connections like these helps us become more resilient.