Father's Day

Well it's Father's Day again, and I have the opportunity to share Dad stories in honor of him ( not that I can't every day but...)! My sister and I are adopted, and I learned recently that in the case of my sister, Mom and Dad were allowed to roam around the babies and "pick" the one they wanted...hence Angela! Unfortunately some 3 years later the protocol had changed and they were no longer allowed to pick, and therefore I was somehow "delivered" into their lives, sight unseen!  My sister often jokes that my real name is "Ignazia Bluntz" and my real family is waiting for me in Bolivia!!! The funniest card I've ever received! Also, my Dad had hoped for a boy, but my Mom was worried that she wouldn't know what to do with one of those!  In retrospect Mom, I think boys are much easier to raise!  So lucky for me, I was picked by someone and delivered into the Gardner home.  Also lucky for Dad, I wasn't a "girly girl" which enabled us, a special bond. As small children it was Angela who insisted on changing her outfit 3 and 4 times a day, while I wore other peoples much larger coats, hanging off me, home from school, much to my Mother's frustration!  My Dad read books...I read books...he gave me a precious gift that I still have "the Once and Future King",...a prized possession.  My Dad loved tennis...and I liked tennis!!!  We spent many, many, many hours on the tennis court...Dad with a seemingly endless supply of tennis balls, launching them at me and crying out "swing now"...with no result! But eventually I did hit the ball, and we did play tennis together for many years.  I think that Dad had a secret wish that I would become the next Yvonne Goulagong, and we would travel the world winning every Open...but that was not to be!  I lacked one critical thing...a competitive nature!! The more critical the game...the more inept I became!!! Sorry Dad!!!
But there was more...Dad loved nature and gardening, and I had a passion for plants and animals.  While my sister's dresser was supplied with an array of makeup; ornaments; brushes; and the like...mine was covered with plants, and a large cage containing a dove, that insisted on waking every morning just before dawn!! My bedside lamp was made from a bottle with a goldfish in it, and at this point I was a wiley teenager, staying out late on Saturday nights despite my ongoing 6:00 a.m. tennis games on Sunday.  Dad would knock on my door, and deliver my morning tea (can you believe it...how good is that!) and tell me that I had 30 minutes!  I'm sure the accumulated alcohol fumes in my room must have reached toxic limits by the time he opened the door...but he never said a word...just "get up"!  I don't know how I managed to do it, but we would go out into the icy air and drive off the to indoor courts...not yet warmed.  Sometimes |I would make an excuse that I'd left something in the car and go off behind the building and vomit, then return and play.  We were playing doubles at the time, with another Father and daughter team.  I think Caroline was a bit more competitive than I...but "the Dads'" were insane!!!!As painful as it was at the time, it is a fond memory for me, of special time my Dad set aside just for us.

When I was 17, and wound up pregnant, my Dad was I'm sure mortified...but over the months that ensued both he and Mom settled into a "reality show" numbness.  I thought I knew everything, of course, and although nervous about giving birth, and giving my child up for adoption, I was certain I could handle it.  My Dad knew better.  The night I went into labour, I called him, and said we were going to the hospital (which was about 30 minutes away).  My boyfriend promptly fell asleep as my labour progressed out of control. I was only allowed one person with me, and the next thing I knew it was Dad sitting beside me, as I screamed out in pain.  The baby was breech, and they couldn't give me anything for pain because they thought they might have to do a C section....at least that's what they told me.  As freaked out as I was, I'll never forget the look in his eyes.  As a typical teen, I had only thought of my own pain...but there in his eyes I could see that everything I was going through was mirrored in intensity in his face...because he couldn't stop it for me. He recently told me that when he went home he simply cried and cried.  I'm sorry I put you through so much.  There's so much more to say but most importantly is that My Dad loved me then, and loves me now, and I never once doubted it.  I hope you know Dad how much you mean to me, and all those boys I made you!!!! Love you Dad...Happy Father's Day!