Tag Archives: touching

Father’s Day

Video

An Everyday Father’s Day

Kelsey and DadIt didn’t happen on Father’s Day, but it defined a father’s love better than any other small moment in my life.

From a very young age our daughter, Kelsey had to endure a significant number of hospital stays. She was very brave about these hospital interludes and accepted them with a calm far beyond her years.  However following that trying period in her life, she was left with one residual inconvenient trait.  Every time someone left and said good-by to her, she would cry.  It was quite emotional and baffling to her, but I think in a subconscious way she connected the experience of someone ‘leaving’ for any reason, back to those scary hospital times. She talked to me privately about it.  I comforted her and reassured her she would eventually outgrow it.

During this time my husband had to go to Atlanta for business for a week.  We decided to make it into a family mini vacation by flying to Atlanta with him and spending the weekend together.  But when the weekend was over it meant that Kelsey and I had to fly back home for work and school, leaving Dad in Atlanta.

The Good-by Wave

Father's DayThe airport good-by was emotional, but Kelsey tried her best to maintain her composure.  She didn’t want to cry in public.  To help her through the transition her dad promised to wave from the terminal building when the plane left. However, once she and I were seated on the plane we couldn’t see him. Kelsey quickly figured out the plane would need to move forward for us to see him wave.   But that plane wouldn’t budge.  It was one of those inexplicable Atlanta delays.My daughter started to cry quietly. We sat on the plane for probably thirty minutes not moving forward an inch.  Then finally and without explanation, the plane started to move slowly….backwards.  Kelsey was never one to make scenes but her quiet crying escalated to sobs.  She simply couldn’t choke back her emotions any longer. Over and over again she sobbed, “I want to wave to my dad.”

The atmosphere in that jet was already tense from the delay.  We continued to sit in our new location as the day turned from light to darkness for another agonizing forty-five minutes.  No one knew why.   My daughter  continued to sob repeating her plea to wave to her dad again and again. She and I, of course, both knew he was long gone by now. This was in the days before cell phones so there was no way to call him.  I tried to comfort her or distract her in every way I knew how. The already tense passengers struggled to politely endure the sound of this heart wrenching scene.

Finally, finally, the plane started to taxi forward.  I dreaded when she wouldn’t  see her dad at the  window.  As the concourse came into view it was totally lit, while we were in complete darkness.  It was a sight I will never forget.  There was only one person in the entire illuminated concourse and he was standing right at the window and waving at a dark plane.

That’s when tears also formed in my eyes.  Dad knew and understood the importance of that wave. When that solitary waving dad came into view the passengers surrounding us gasped and broke into spontaneous applause.  Before long the whole plane was applauding.  I like to think the ovation was in tribute to a dad’s love.  I’m not certain that is the only reason everyone on that plane applauded, but it’s the reason I choose to remember.

good-by wave

Happy Father’s Day to Dads Who Remember to Wave

Moments Matter

Standard

Making the Most of Moments

I’ve heard it said that we don’t remember days, we remember moments.  As I think back over my own life I believe that’s true.  The good news is moments take less time than elaborate events and time is a commodity most of us have in short supply.  Most moments that mean much to us simply evolve spontaneously.  But as we build a life of value, embracing the moments when they happen means a great deal.

I remember one significant moment in my life that didn’t even involve a single word. My youngest daughter, Kelsey endured two long battles with cancer.  During her second battle in her teen years while I drove her to the hospital for treatments, I knew she was uptight about all that would transpire, though she never would verbalize her fears.

I fell into the habit of putting my hand on her knee as we drove to the hospital.  One time as we drove there I was lost in my own silent thoughts of dread and I didn’t put my hand on her knee.  After a while she quietly picked up my hand and placed it on her knee.  No words at all.  But we were then connected.  She was telling me she was scared but didn’t want to talk about it. She was telling me that she needed me present with her. It was a moment I will never forget.

Another lighter moment happened in my classroom as I was preparing my teen students to go on a trip out-of-town for an educational conference.  I spoke to them seriously about our upcoming stay in a hotel.  No one was ever to be in the hotel hallway alone.

“Even if you are just going for a bucket of ice, you must have a partner with you,”  I warned.  “Never talk to strangers or enter the room of someone you’ve just met no matter how nice they seem.” I continued sternly.  The atmosphere was very sober as I wanted it to be.

At precisely that moment there was a knock on my classroom door.  A man wearing the uniform of the technology department whom I had never seen before, was looking for the room which housed the media brain of our building.  That particular door is somewhat hidden.  You must pass through another room that has no posted room number in order to find it.  I tried to describe the process to him, but he was still confused.  I stepped outside my classroom, walked a few feet down the hall, opened the unmarked door and escorted him inside to point out the door he was trying to find.  I was back in my classroom in seconds.

One of my female students with a gleam in her eye said, “Excuse me, Mrs. Easley.  Didn’t we just see you leave your friends and go into a room with a strange man who you didn’t even know?”  I tried to stay serious but the whole classroom dissolved into laughter.  What followed was an out-and-out giggle fit that went on and on.  Every time I tried to get the class back on track someone would start laughing again, usually me.

It was a spontaneous moment that none of us will ever forget.  I’m sure long after I’m dead and buried if those students get together to talk about old times, one of them will say, “Do you remember the time Mrs. Easley left the class and went off with a strange man?”  And they’ll laugh again.

What makes me proud?  I was “present” in those moments.  I connected with Kelsey’s message when she needed me.  And I collapsed in laughter when that was the only response needed.  I embraced the moments.  That’s why those moments will live forever.

This is an excerpt taken from my upcoming book:    Teach     To Change Lives