We took the kids fishing for the first time last weekend. Kiddo had spent a week in fishing camp at the beginning of the summer, but this was the first time we all went as a family.
I come from a fishing and camping family. Trout fishing and camping in upstate New York every summer, boat fishing for flounder at home in New Jersey when we weren’t camping, catching sad little sunnies at the reservoir while my five-year-old brother struggled with his new Snoopy spin caster… When I remember my father as happy, I mostly remember him fishing.
I may have built last Saturday’s fishing trip up in my mind ever so slightly. I may have somewhat set myself up.
Kiddo wanted to go to Blue Lake, because it was one of the fishing spots he’d gone to with the camp. We got there and Kiddo cast out, reeled back in immediately, cast out again, reeled back in immediately… He wasn’t satisfied with his casting. Then Girlie had to pee (guess who potty-trained herself last week at 26 months?) and Billy took her so I could stay with the guy, since Billy himself is just now learning to fish.
Kiddo reeled in again and went to cast out again and somehow got things so horribly tangled that the line was wrapped around the base of the reel about fifty times and all knotted up and hopeless. My dad was the snarl fixer, not me. I sat down on the dock and cried about the snarled reel in my lap, because it felt so horribly lonely to be the adult responsible for fixing the mess, my father not there, not anywhere I could reach him. Then I pulled myself together and cut the tangled line away, and got the rod set back up for the kid, with a nice fat worm on the hook so he could have another go. Because what else is there for it?
It’s hard to predict what will bring that old pain back up to the surface, my dad gone now nineteen years, but I should have seen this one coming.
We didn’t catch anything that day. We went back out yesterday, though, and caught five fish between us. Yesterday was easier, because I knew what to expect. I watched the sadness bubble up, then let it go. Cast my line out. Landed a fat trout.
Today is his birthday. He would have turned seventy.
Happy birthday, Daddy. Your grandson caught his first trout yesterday.
What a lovely way to celebrate life. Glad you got to hang out with your family and think about your father.
I am 3 years younger than your father would have been today. I want to take my granddaughters fishing. When I’m near, not nearly often enough, I am the biggest soccer fan, I love watching kids learning gymnastics. I have only girls in my life — daughters and granddaughters — but fishing has always been an important part of my world, and now I want to take the girls to a green pond.
Yesterday we worked on cleaning and sorting the guest room, what we usually call “the room of shame”. There was a lot of purging and several trips to Goodwill. I let many of my Dad’s things go, and I found that it gets harder to let go of his things as time passes. It’s been 8 years and the reality of never seeing him again, of never being with him again, is so heavy and present. Sure it’s just a flashlight, but it was the flashlight that he held to walk me through the dark to the porta-potty. I was safe with him, spiders and bad things in the dark couldn’t get me when he had the flashlight in one hand and me in the other. Being the adult in his absence feels so burdensome.
It’s almost 17 years for me. And I miss him every day. Not a year ago, I found myself picking up the phone to call him about something that he would have enjoyed. Stopped me in my tracks. Like Kiddo, my so only knows his grandfather through stories and pictures and actions, but he does know him
I’m sharing your memories and feelings with tears for you, your brother and me.
We’re lucky that we have WONDERFUL memories to share. I’m picturing Daddy with you at your family fishing experience and can imagine his comments. I know there would be SO MUCH laughter. The tears will always be there but so will the smiles and laughter.
I LOVE you sooooooooooooooooooo much!!!
Mom
What a lovely post. Your memories of fishing with your father are touching and carrying on the tradition with your son is wonderful.
I am still coming to terms with my dad’s death – he died just over three months ago, and it’s left me reeling. We had become especially close after my mother died 5 years ago; it feels like I’ve lost her all over again too. We were planning on celebrating his 70th birthday this year as well.
Aw. I am writing that not because it is an appropriate or adequate comment, but because that’s what I said when I read it. Aw. Sad-sweet sound.
Cari’s mom’s comment wins the comment of the year award.
Your family fishing trips will be the gift your father gave to his grandchildren through you. This is the way sadness becomes something valuable.