May 172011
 

There once was a man who became very sad whenever he called his father on Father’s Day. His father, who lived in a distant city, always took the opportunity to chastise the man for not calling more often. To this the son would say that it was a two way street, but refused to be drawn into an argument.

 

The son’s wife, who was naturally concerned about her husband, asked why he even bothered to call on Father’s day – knowing how his father was. He told her that it was the right thing to do – to honour your father and mother – even though it made him sad.

 

Then one year, at Christmas, a nurse called from a hospital to say that his father was sick and was asking for him to come. Despite the late hour, the son went immediately and visited with his father. His father talked of many things and the man had compassion for his father, as he could see his father was remorseful.

 

The man suggested to his father that a man’s past does not equal his future and that maybe they could start over, after his father recovered from his illness. He gave his father a blank sheet of paper in order to write some New Year’s resolutions, and the son would do the same, hoping for a new relationship.

 

His father nodded in agreement, but the son returned a few days later and noticed the paper was still blank. He never said anything about it to his father, although he was puzzled. Could it be that the father had a change of heart, or was there something else?

 

His father, who was wearing an oxygen mask, then wrote a note that asked if his son was late for the job interview that he had mentioned earlier – some distance away. He told his father that yes he should go, but that he would be back early the next morning. His father then scribbled something illegible on the paper and collapsed back on to his hospital bed exhausted.

 

When the son return to the hospital the next morning, he was told that his father had died just a few hours earlier. In fact, he learned that the doctor had reminded his father to get his affairs in order, because he had only hours to live. 

 

Saddened, the son unravelled the note his dad had given him before he had left. Since the letters on the page were jumbled and ran together, it took some time to decipher them. In it, his father said to hurry back and that he had hoped his last will and testament was okay. 

 

The man wept because he realized that his father had sacrificed his last remaining hours of life, by not mentioning he was dying, because he knew his son would never have left him.

 

He also realized something else – his father had always loved him, very much. 

 

And he smiled when he thought of his dad and next Father’s day.

 Fred Parry

                                        fredparry.ca  2011

May 172011
 

Welcome once again to www.fredparry.ca  and it’s a real pleasure to have you visit the site!

For regular readers, I promised to report to you in June 2011 (I’m a bit early); regarding a problem I was having with ‘comment spam’ (a new term for me).

It seems that there were thousands of comments on my Blog that were computer generated – not from actual readers – that included promotional websites. I initially thought … well, that just how the web works; but, when it was pointed out to me that I was replying back to a software program, I felt sad and more than a bit foolish!

At that time, I decided to call on my IT ‘support team’ to come up with some way of eliminating this from happening. There were different suggestions (like pre-registration of readers); but that really meant presenting you with another hoop to jump through.

So, I opted for a more robust spam control program – which is now in effect. So to avoid having your comments (which I very much appreciate) not get through, please don’t fill the ‘Website’ section with a business-type name (most folks don’t use one, anyway). Otherwise, it will be interpreted as comment spam and therefore deleted (at least that’s the way it’s supposed to work). In any event, just use your user name and normal email (which is not published).

Well, that’s it. Please comment as you feel inclined to and thanks for your understanding … and interest in this website.

 Fred Parry

PS If you find that your  legitimate comment doesn’t get throuh the first time, please try again. Thanks!   

May 132011
 

There once was a man who became very sad whenever he called his father on Father’s day. His father, who lived in a distance city, always took the opportunity to chastise the man for not calling more often. To this the son would say that it was a two way street, but refused to be drawn into an argument.

The son’s wife, who was naturally concerned about her husband, asked why he even bothered to call on Father’s day – knowing how his father was. He told her that it was the right thing to do – to honour your mother and father – even though it made him sad.

Then one year, at Christmas, a nurse called from a hospital to say that his father was sick and was asking for him to come. Despite the late hour, the son went immediately and visited with his father. His father talked of many things and the man had compassion for his father, as he could see his father was remorseful.

The man suggested to his father that a man’s past does not equal his future and that maybe they could start over, after his father recovered from his illness. He gave his father a blank sheet of paper in order to write some New Year’s resolutions, and the son would do the same, hoping for a new relationship.

His father nodded in agreement, but the son returned a few days later and noticed the paper was still blank. He never said anything about it to his father, although he was puzzled. Could it be that the father had a change of heart, or was there something else?

His father, who was wearing an oxygen mask, then wrote a note that asked if his son was late for the job interview that he had mentioned earlier – some distance away. He told his father that yes he should go, but that he would be back early the next morning. His father then scribbled something illegible on the paper and collapsed back on to his hospital bed exhausted.

When the son return to the hospital the next morning, he was told that his father had died, just a few hours earlier. In fact, he learned that the doctor had reminded his father to get his affairs in order, because he had only hours to live. 

Sadden; the son unravelled the note his dad had given him before he had left. Since the letters on the page were jumbled and ran together, it took some time to decipher them. In it, his father said to hurry back and that he had hoped the Will was ok. 

The man wept because he realized that his father had sacrificed his last remaining hours of life, by not mentioning he was dying, because he knew his son would never have left him.

He also realized something else – his father had always loved him, very much. 

And he smiled when he thought of his dad and next Father’s day.

                                        fredparry.ca  2011

May 062011
 

He wasn’t a bad guy; but when it came to raising a teenage son, he was totally ill-prepared to do so. What guy could? With his wife’s final decision to leave; and with me wanting to stay in our family home, we were stuck with each other.

And I really couldn’t blame my mom either. After years of bickering, she had come to me one day to tell me of her intention to leave him. (This didn’t surprise me, because even from a young age my mom and I could converse as would adults.)

I was given a choice: to stay or leave with her. I decided to stay.

At 14, I seemed to see things much clearer. For one thing, my school, my friends and routine were all there. Secondly, living in a small apartment with her just didn’t seem to fit – for me or her. And living with my dad? I was about to find out.

For the next few years, my dad held on to the idea that she would come back … and she did from time to time … to take my friends and I out for hamburgers and generally hang out with me.

After a while, though, my father’s new life took hold and I was gradually enveloped into the love of my paternal grandmother – who in addition to losing her husband, shared no love for my mother. (Although, it must be mentioned, I don’t think my grandmother was all that happy with any woman that my dad would choose as a partner.)

It was my first introduction to family politics; or as my dad dubbed it, ‘the in-laws and outlaws’. It wasn’t that either side of the family was bad; they were just defending their own, by ‘circling the wagons’ around them.

My part, as emphasized by my dad, was to not share any of our “private” matters with my mother and her side of the family. I was taught well and I lived in fear of disappointing my dad’s family. Non-acceptance was presented to me in black and white terms – loving my mom’s family, meant rejecting my dad’s family.

I eventually came to believe that my mother was to blame and that I was the victim. (How could she just leave her son?) So, with great pride, I stomped on her love in any way I could. And those, supposedly adults, stood by and encouraged me on … oh, the damage done! Looking back, although I can honestly say I’m disappointed with them; I’m too tired to hate anymore.

My mom says that we were all victims – despite the fact that she suffered the loss of her son for all those years … and as for forgiveness? She says none is necessary, as she never, ever, stopped loving me!

How is it she can feel that way? Or perhaps, the greatest question of all: How is it that I deserve it?

During that time, I always thought that the Beatle’s song ‘All you need is love’ was rather trite sounding; but now … I wish I could go back, to yesterday.   

 

                                        fredparry.ca  2011