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Ripped Jeans & Bifocals

Adoption, motherhood and midlife

Remembering my father

February 22, 2016 by Jill 6 Comments

Yesterday was my last day employed by the bourbon distillery where my father worked 17 years.

I made it 31 months.

It wasn’t that I didn’t inherit his stamina and work ethic. My co-workers were interesting, good people, with laid back, comedic and gossipy personalities one grows up around in a small town. Time tick tocks a little slower down in the valley where the distillery rises up above the tree lines.

Dad began working there when he was 19 until he was 36 years old. I was 12 when he got a better job making more money at a federal prison. He passed away at age 50 of lung cancer about 10 months after diagnosis. I was 25 years old, five days before turning 26.

Despite being an adult with a mortgage, paralegal career and a one-year-old daughter, the devastation of his loss brought my knee caps to the kitchen floor.

It happened after I called my brother to deliver the news. It had to be me to tell him. I knew it had to be me.

Sometimes we are able to close the door on our emotions long enough to accomplish a difficult obligation. That’s what I did. I did it for months before dad let go of life. I knew I’d have the rest of mine to leave the door wide open, but not in front of him, or my brother or my mother. Not while hope and strength were needed as a priority to push us all through the treatments, hospital stays and filing for Social Security based on terminal diagnosis.

All until that moment when I hung up the phone with my brother; strength evaporated and took hope with it.

I knew part of me was going to be different from this point forward. I was not wrong.

My brother and I would join thousands of people who had lost parents, some young, and many who were much older than us. There’s an understanding expression in the eyes when we see each other, because it’s not possible for another human being to understand what it feels like to lose a parent until it happens. Not even if I were to craft a hundred metaphors to describe the feeling.

I wager the experience differs as well for those of us who were close to our parent, like I was with my father. (No, I’m certainly not saying it is harder or worse for me, but different.) We were so much alike, and we were best friends.

About two years after grieving dad’s death, I received a Facebook message from a friend working at the distillery letting me know her position would be open soon. She asked if I would be interested.

Here was a chance to meet many of dad’s former co-workers who I’m sure could tell me stories I hadn’t heard. I was tired of my commute to my current job and was feeling guilty about spending so much time away from my family, so I took the job.

I was right. Within a month, I had gathered many hilarious stories about my dad’s antics and humbling tales about his kindness. A few folks wandered to my desk just to meet “Otis Ball’s daughter” and tell me what a great person he was. I soaked it all up like a little shriveled plant thirsty for water. These were his memories brought to life through people who knew him well, and I had gained unfettered access.

My connection with my deceased father is so strong, I feel it even in death. Perhaps the pain comes from my inability to create new memories using our connection. Surely others left behind in the light of the living feel as I do. I was lucky. I had found a way to discover old memories which were new to me.

The job was easy, simple office work. I knew I was overqualified. Hearing about dad’s life from co-workers fed my soul, but the work didn’t. I was a writer. My passion lives inside words scrawled on a page. I liked challenge. I liked to help people.

Remembering my father|Ripped Jeans and Bifocals

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Somewhere on my journey chasing my father’s ghost, I had forgotten my passion. So after several months soaking in the atmosphere where my father had spent half his adult life, I slowly began to write again, and realized I wasn’t supposed to be there anymore. Dad wouldn’t want me stuck in place on his behalf, a place I didn’t belong. A place where my talents were not utilized.

So I left.

I am pursuing a fulltime career as a freelance writer. When I switched majors my sophomore year in college from Physical Therapy to a double major in English and Communication, my father said, “How are you ever going to make any money doing that?”

He was laying on the concrete floor of the carport at home, fiddling under my car. The forest green Honda Accord was making a crazy scratching noise. He had the tire pulled off minutes after my arrival.

“I will,” I said, though I really wasn’t sure myself how I was going to turn words into cash. I was seated on my tire watching his greasy elbow move this way and that.

He turned his head and faced up at me to make eye contact. “Show me,” he said, then turned his attention back to the mechanics of the car he helped me buy.

Well, dad. I’m showing you now.

Remembering my father|Ripped Jeans and Bifocals

Mary Anglin-Coulter writes a lot of (occasionally bad) poetry and short stories, and works as a fulltime freelance writer. She lives in Bardstown, Kentucky, which is where 95% of the world’s bourbon is aged, and often takes advantage of the fact that there is more bourbon around to be had than people (hence the occasional bad poetry written at 3:00 a.m.). She and her spouse are raising three girls together, and lovingly refer to their home as the Estrogen House which even has its own Facebook page. You can follow Mary on Twitter and Instagram.

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6 Comments

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Comments

  1. Kendall Patton says

    February 24, 2016 at 12:36 pm

    Having just lost my dad, your story and words touch me so deeply.

    I let go of some of the emotion during the beautiful party of a service we planned for him, but much is still locked up as I work to settle his estate – his life here with us.

    I wonder if it’ll ever stop hurting, but somehow I know it won’t, nor will it be like other losses and hurt less over time…

    Reply
    • Mary Anglin-Coulter says

      February 28, 2016 at 8:41 pm

      I am sorry to hear you are trudging it. It’s terrible to go through, but I’m happy we can relate. That makes it easier for me, just to be able to relate to others who have lost parents. Hugs to you. No, the pain never goes away, but it does get easier in time.

      Reply
  2. Tricia says

    February 24, 2016 at 1:55 pm

    This was beautifully written. I’m so very sorry for your loss. That’s wonderful that you had a chance to work at the same place and take the time to talk with his co-workers. I’m sure he would be so proud of you. Your writing is wonderful.

    Reply
    • Mary Anglin-Coulter says

      February 28, 2016 at 8:43 pm

      Thank you for the positive feedback and for your condolences!

      Reply
  3. thomson.b.milan says

    February 25, 2016 at 4:00 am

    NICE

    Reply
  4. Charlotte says

    March 6, 2017 at 2:24 am

    I can totally identify with this. My father died 2 years ago when I had just turned 35. I was married with 2 kids, had a busy career and lived abroad (none of those things have changed) but when my brother called to tell me, I was suddenly a child again, curled up on the bathroom floor crying for her daddy.

    A very good friend of mine who had lost her mother 2 years earlier said “when we lose a parent it is the time in our lives when we have to be more grown up than we have ever been but we have never wanted to be a child more.”

    I remember going to her mother’s funeral, offering platitudes and then carrying on with my day. When dad died, she was amazing. She understood so much of what I was feeling and I felt terribly guilty that I had not been able to offer her the same. But I have come to realise over time as other friends have lost their parents, that you really can’t get it until it happens. Now, I am able to help friends experiencing the same thing because I really understand their feelings.

    I know that different people have different relationships with their parents and that although I loved my dad so much and was devastated by his loss, I am also lucky that my grief is simple. I adored him and now he is gone. For others who had complicated or difficult relationships with their parents there are other feelings which are just as hard as my pure and simple sense of loss.

    Like your memories, I found photos very hard to look at. The sense that he would never be in another one struck me so hard every time I looked at one. My husband got me a digital frame and has loaded it with hundreds of photos, including lots of my dad and it is wonderful. They are there for a few seconds and then move onto the next so I have the chance to enjoy the memory but not to feel stuck.

    The Queen once said that grief is the price we pay for love and that has really stuck with me. In the darkest days (and I still have them sometimes) I know that if someone offered to take away the pain in exchange for giving up having had him in my life, I would grab my anguish with both hands and refuse to give it up.

    I always saw the death of a parent, once we are adults, as being just a sad thing which happens to us all and then we move on. I know now that it can be a foundation-shaking experience and when you have experienced it, you are able to put out a hand to those whose world is rocking because we know how to stand firm again.

    Thank you for sharing.

    Reply

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Hey there and welcome! My name is Jill Robbins and this is my space on the internet. I’m happy you are here. Just so you know, if this weren’t the internet, I’d be smiling awkwardly and answering simple questions like “how are you today” with gems like “Me too!” and “Great, but I forgot to put on deodorant.” I’m that person.

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It's easy to social distance on the gorgeous beaches. June/July is their busy season so you will see people but it's easy to maintain distance on the beach & in the water.
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If you want to eat in a restaurant, there are plenty of choices. We preferred places w/ open air seating & there are lots. Obviously, the seafood is fresh & amazing. If you are a 🍣 person, you'll be in heaven.
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All of the typical water activities - surfing, snorkeling, scuba - are still happening - and you can check each individual tour company's COVID-19 policy. We did a tour with Destin Snorkel that I highly recommend for beginner snorkelers or kids. It's easy to keep your space in the water but impossible to maintain the six-feet rule on the boat. You can wear a 😷 if you choose but masks were not required at the time of my visit and I didn't see very many people wearing them.
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My general pandemic travel tips:
1️⃣don't travel if you're sick or showing symptoms.  2️⃣road trips over flying.
3️⃣condo or vacation home over hotel.
4️⃣outdoor activities where you can maintain social distance.
5️⃣bring/make your own food or order takeout. If you eat out, look for open-air eateries, and places that are committed to reducing spread (i.e. single-use or QR code menus).
6️⃣if you're not comfortable, don't travel. This is a really personal decision & it's going to vary from family to family & location to location.
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Want to keep this info or learn more? Hit save on this post to refer to it later and check out the link to my full blog post on Destin/FWB in my profile. And, let me know if you have any questions about Destin or pandemic travel.
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Today I'm answering some of your questions about o Today I'm answering some of your questions about our trip to Brazosport TX. You can save this post to reference later.
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❓What are the beaches like? Typical TX beaches. Darker, sand w/high clay content. If you want white sand and clear turquoise water you'll have to go further southeast into Alabama & the Florida panhandle. Super uncrowded. Water was pretty calm when we went although that varies w/ weather. Very easy to maintain social distance. There are four different beaches. We went to Surfside Beach & Follet's Beach. Surfside requires a permit to drive on the beach and Follet's is free. Follet's, IMO, is a better beach all around. Not a lot of stores/amenities near the beaches so bring what you need.
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