A Father's Day Tribute: Why Every Moment Matters

Last week I was having a quiet lunch inside with the windows open. My youngest was napping and I was enjoying the quiet that comes along with living in the country. No background noise, birds chirping and the soft creaking of my wooden garden gate every now and then as it swung open and shut as the wind blew.

As I sipped on my iced tea, and crushed a small ice cube between my teeth, I glanced out the window and watched the shadows of the leaves from the trees seeming to dance across the green grass along with peaks of bright sunshine. I love that. It reminds me of my grandparents house. I spent every summer there as a child and I have so many amazing, but simple memories of my time there. Looking back, I’m glad even as a child, I took time to recognize simple moments in my childhood. It’s those moments that find their way into your life even decades later.

All of those big trees that shaded my grandparents neatly landscaped yard so perfectly always came with a little clean up. My grandfather in his everyday simple white v- neck t- shirt, shorts and brown slippers, would carry an old plastic heavy duty garbage can from the garage and place it into the middle of the yard. Then it was “clean up sticks time!”

My brother, sister and I never complained, and along with my grandfather and his sweet dog Pumpkin, we picked up every last stick until the yard was back to picture perfect clean. We usually ended our little clean up session with a game of baseball. I still remember the sound that big red plastic bat made as it hit the over sized white hard plastic ball. Whap….

I have nothing but happy memories from those summers. It was home to me.

Fast forward a few short years and that sweet man who gave me so much love was quickly being taken away from us by cancer.

I remember riding my bike with my cousin one warm summer afternoon when I was 15. We were near my grandparents and I wanted to stop by. I’m glad we did. I wanted to spend time with time with him when I could. I remember knowing even then not to take time for granted.

My grandparents were sitting at their kitchen table. My grandmother got us all a cold glass of water and we just sat there and talked. We talked about every day things, as the pretty flowers in a planter right outside the window and the American flag gently swayed in the breeze. We talked about what we were doing that day, what activities I had coming up the next week and then plans for the upcoming school year- high school for me in the Fall.

That’s when I felt like someone punched me in the chest and sucked every last ounce of air out of my lungs. I wanted to cry so hard and hug my grandpa forever.

This man who was always there for me, was never bothered by me, who was strong, kind, generous and who was like a father to me broke down in a heavy cry right there in front of me. He wouldn’t be here in the Fall.

I ached all over.

My grandmother placed her hand on his shoulder and he wiped his eyes with both hands underneath his glasses and took a sip of water.

We stayed a little longer and then hopped back on our bikes riding underneath the same beautiful shadows of big trees and sunlight that I loved so much.

That was 19 years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday. That painful memory, when it comes up, is always quickly set aside for a happier one like picking strawberries, wrapping his black and silver wavy hair in to a hundred pastel hair ties, enjoying homemade apple crisp together for breakfast just because, being pushed on the swing at the playground across the street or sitting on his lap reaching up and touching his face as he read me my favorite book that had been read so many times throughout the years that it was held together with piece of tape at the top seam.

Every moment matters. Today matters. What you do, how you treat others and how you make others feel matters. My grandfather taught me that. We don’t know how long we will be here. Make the time that you are here, everyday, matter to someone. You will not ever have the chance to get those moments back either.

My grandfather always use to sing me the song, “You are my sunshine.”

He was my sunshine.

On days like today, I see him. He’s in the peaks of sunshine in between the shadows of the leaves as they dance across the green grass.

This weekend, thank the special fathers in your life and make every moment matter because you just don’t know how many you have.

Happy Father’s Day Grandpa!