early imprints

I didn’t mean to come back only to be absent again for nearly two weeks. Truth is I was a bit distracted by a funeral for a family friend last week, and it affected me perhaps more than I anticipated.

You see, the gentleman who passed was a contemporary of my father’s, the same age, and someone who was as close to me as an uncle for many of the formative years of my life. Several of those who stood up to talk at his funeral described him as unfailingly kind, loving, open and generous. And it dawned on me then that, while I thought he always treated me as special as a child (we joked about my being the only daughter he never had, because he sired only sons), he treated everyone else with the same kindness as he treated me.

I remember getting to ride in his Corvette as a young girl, occasional gifts and even calling him to borrow money as I was just beginning my adult life:  Too proud to call my own father, I asked for a loan of $500. He overnighted a check for $750 and then, after I’d paid back the first two payments of $250 each, refused to accept any more. He once loaned me a box truck from his business to move apartments. And his wife of 45 years once took me shopping and attempted to buy me a beautiful pink Angora sweater…at exactly the wrong point in my teens, when it would have been colossally uncool.

But those early memories made a big impression on me about success, having enough and what it all meant. I was reminded of how much I strive to be like him:  to provide for my family, while always being generous with what I can; to keep an open mind and heart; to live well and do good. Beyond the connection I shared with him, I am in awe of the 45 years he and his wife shared, and of how poised she was as she talked of their 45 years of partnership. It takes a gentle soul to achieve that…two gentle souls.

So I came home after that and tried to explain to my boyfriend of a few months how much this man had meant in my life and how much it meant be reminded of all those wonderful things about him, and I told him I wished that for my own life, too.

I wonder if it’s something we’ll embark on (or continue, I suppose, depending on how one views it) together?

Advertisements

About failedatforty


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: