Love your parents

It rained on Labor Day, so instead of cooking out we all piled into the van and went to the mall to hang out with the rest of the hoi polloi and maybe eat some cheap food in the food court.  As we drove along we listened to 70's music on Sirius since as patriarch I control the in-flight entertainment.

The old classic "Cat's In The Cradle" came on and my son asked me what it was all about.  He thought maybe the chorus about men in the moon, etc, was another drug induced vision from his dad's generation.

Anyway, when Chapin got to the last verse I couldn't help thinking about my dad.

I've long since retired, my son's moved away,
I called him up just the other day.
I said I'd like to see you if you don't mind
He said I'd love to dad if I can find the time
You see my new job's a hassle and kids have the flu
But it's sure nice talking to you, dad,
It's been sure nice talking to you.

My dad died a little over three and a half years ago.  Like everybody else who's ever lost somebody I guess, I think of things I wish I'd done differently.  After we dropped the kids at the mall and my wife and I drove across the street to make another stop before lunch, I started to weep as I told her my feelings while listening to that song.

I remembered the times my dad called me--like the son in the song I moved away from Memphis, Tennessee to upstate New York--to ask for my help on some "unimportant" computer issue, usually related to something cosmetic with Windows.  The thought would usually cross my mind, "I'd like to kill my nephew for giving my dad his first compter," but of course I never said that to my dad.

I would usually do my best to help him over the phone, but now I wonder if my impatience was reflected in my voice.  I hope not.

My dad was a great man.  You can ask any of the many people who attended his funeral in Memphis. He touched many lives and encouraged people in special ways, visiting hospitals and shut-ins as part of his ministry.  He had a special gift that was appreciated by hundreds.

I wish my dad could call me up today.  I would talk to him for hours about anything on his mind.  But like King David said, "I'll go to him someday, but he won't come to me."

A few weeks before he died my dad sent an email to me and my three brothers.  He said he just hadn't been feeling well and wanted us all to know how much he loved us.  I will treasure that message sent through his pesky computer until the day I die.

If you still have your parents, keep in mind you won't have them forever.  Give them your time, your help, your listening ears.  They gave you life, they cared for you, cleaned your diapers, took care of your messes, and spent a fortune bringing you up to adulthood.

The least you can do is stop what you're doing when they call and devote your attention to their concerns however small they may seem next to your important activities.  Someday you'll wish you had.