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A sad that I I couldn't experience through another sadness

7/24/2018

I have been feeling awful about this for over two months.

My dad was not doing well and we were sure he was in his last days when we received the news of aunt Ruth passing away. It was a shot in my gut, but all I could do was cry in shock as I concentrated on my dad.

I will always feel sadness that I couldn't fully mourn the incredible loss of this great woman. Maybe I can now.

When I was a little kid I would spend my February vacation with my grandparents in Warwick, RI. They lived on the bottom floor of the house with Aunt Ruth and Uncle Cal. Their dog was Bingo. I'll admit when I was young all I really cared about was Bingo!

Aunt Ruth was a strong independent woman who lived her life after losing her husband her way and even when she died, she did it with strength.

Aunt Ruth took up lawn bowling later in life mostly, I think because she would help gramps get to the greens when he was in his 90s. She then continued to play after that for a few years often joining my nephew Josh for some games.

I admit I don't know a great deal about her, my fault for not being around more. When we would see each other it was always great. Smiles and genuine happiness that we get to see each other again. The last time I saw her was at my nephew's wedding. I marveled at how much she now resembled her mother in many way. Similar walk and posture. She always looked more like my grandfather I thought, but on this day I saw gramma.

I wanted to sit down today and remember stories of my aunt Ruth but sadly they aren't really coming to me, I heard so many stories from my brother who visited her often. Those come to mind.

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Hey pop, in case I forget, Happy Birthday

7/24/2018

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Birthdays didn't really mean much to my dad. It was just another day to him. And we knew that. So when his birthday did come around, if we didn't call him, we knew it didn't really bother him.

So today I am writing this blog post about my dad's birthday. He would've been 90..... yesterday!

Happy birthday pop. I miss you.

He died one week to the day before his 90th birthday. He did acknowledge that this was a big deal this year turning 90 and in some ways I think he wanted, in the beginning of his knowing he was dying, to live to see 90. He made a few comments that were uncharacteristic of him about his birthday that led us to believe maybe he'd make it. That that was his goal.

In the end, life wasn't treating him well enough. He had enough. Turning 90 wasn't as important anymore when he was not enjoying being alive.

I get it Pop, I really do!

I think the most pain I feel about losing my dad is just thinking about how a man who looked upon life as a gift had to suffer at the end of it. That part of life is just not right.

Happy Birthday pop, a day late, just like always with me!

What I wanted to write to you was how many times I thought about you as I bowled this weekend. How the bowlers, many who you never even met, stood silently in thoughts for you, for the loss to our family and to lawn bowling. We then began the tournament. Life goes on. I could hear your voice saying that to me.
And I wanted to tell you how when I finished the first end of the first game all I wanted to do was go down and kick the bowls back like you used to do and how I wished I wore my black shoes with my white socks so when I was corralling them I'd be able to look down and actually see your feet guiding those bowls back to the end so we could start the next end.

I wanted to tell you that we won the tournament for you, but as you know, lawn bowls doesn't always let you do what you want to do. You'd get a kick out of the fact that we lost a game to a couple new club bowlers who really don't understand the game very well, but did what they needed to do to beat us. I know you'd love that because one of your greatest lessons to us was "on any given day anyone can be beaten!" You'd give us that pep talk when we had to play some of the best players in the country.

And as with many, many, many things....you are absolutely right!

I wanted to tell you I played with your bowls, but sadly, I just didn't think of it until I was at the green. You taught us to play with the bowls we have and back in the day those were all we had. Today I still own the lawn bowls you won the Eastern Division singles in 1948 or so when you were around 20, and that I won the Eastern Division singles with around 40 years later when I was around 20.
And I own the set "we" bought you for Christmas one year in the early 70s. (I was too young to really be a part of this, but we got you bowls and me a set of carpet bowls.... that I would ask to play on our living room rug and down at Grampas so so many times before you, and the bowlers of Smithfield Avenue let me use them on the green off to the side.) When you needed to get a smaller bowl later in life we got you another new set, but with the stipulation that I got your bowls again. I always felt they had magic in them. The only reason I don't use them now is because of the rule book and the legible stamp. Rules!!!! I won't get you started pop on the rules!
I will miss you my friend and Pop! I will miss you my dad!

But I don't want to cry anymore for my loss. And I'm writing this because of that. I realize that I am very lucky. For over 52 years I had a dad. And I had a really good dad. One who did his very best for me and my brothers and sister. One who loved my mother and no matter what was going to take care of her. A mentor and more importantly a friend who gave me the gift of his lessons.

In the end of his life he was every bit of the man he was his whole life. Worried about my mom and how she'll get on financially and more. He was worried about her more than worried about what was ahead for him in death. We wasn't a religious man so I'm not sure what he thought as he faced his end. Maybe what I think, which is who knows?
He was a sweet man.

OK so.... my pop........

My pop called me Dicky boy. I just feel like I need to say that out loud. He called me Dicky Boy. I always found comfort in that!
On the other side of comfort, but equally engrained in me as a great memory is this!.
When he was telling stories to others about me that involved another person named Dick, he would refer to me as "my Dick," which I found incredibly amusing, because he didn't once catch himself saying those words and thinking that sounded funny!

I remember when I was in my 40s, I told him how he used to call me Dicky boy and he sorta remembered, but not entirely. But he remembered that conversation and called me Dicky boy one more time after that. Its funny how I can remember that he only called me that one more time. I wear that name with pride.
I will miss my pop!

So.... pop told my brother his two proudest moments in lawn bowls was bowling with my brother Bob as a 12 year old and beating two of the best players in the country and another time he took a novice into the Eastern Division tournament and won it in epic fashion in the last end of a playoff final with an incredible shot. I would put both of those in his best wins and proudestest moments. I'd include the time he beat a guy at midnight to win the Eastern Division singles championships and another time he took a guy with a bum leg and another guy who just liked to go out and bowl and he would find himself in impossible situations that he figured out how to get out of, much to his opponents dismay.

Above is a picture of the 1992 US Championship contestants. In the middle is me, dad and my brother Bob. Dad and I won the right to compete for the doubles and Bobby won the right to play the singles. Dad and I winning to represent is my proudest moment. Only possibly topped by Bobby and I winning a championship 4 years later with mom, dad and grampa in attendance! To me my father was a better bowler than I'll ever be. He never took top players, he took novices and his kids and competed well. Very well. But this was his only appearance in the championships. And It didn't make his proudest moments because to him it was just another tournament. Even when Bobby and I won in 1996, pop's reaction to us was great. "Good tournament boys!" and a handshake.
And that is all it was, a good tournament! He was a good and wise man! Taught us perspective.

That is what I will always remember most about my dad and what I hope I take into the rest of my days.... perspective. We are here for a time and then its time for the next generation. I read a quote from the Dali Lama that said how we're here on this planet to help one another and if we can't help, do not hurt. I'm never sure if I'm here at all to help, but I sure hope I don't hurt the process of life!

I won’t go on and on, though I have more stories, those we will tell among ourselves at family get togethers and on lawn bowling trips. It is sad that in generations to come we all just become names in a history of a family. If I were to pick out the ones to be remembered by more than a name my dad would be one of those.

I wish we could've bottled his soul.

But each of us can say similar things about the important people in our lives. I grieve by writing these things, others grieve in other ways. But each of us have dad's or others that are influential and we should find ways to make sure they are acknowledged for their contributions to this world.

Everyone should be writing about their own dad and reading your own family’s history to know yourselves better. Write journals, blogs , letters. Remember. Remember the parts of your life with people that matter and love them.

Love them beyond them. That's how we know they are still with us.

I love you pop! I love you my dad and I will miss you the rest of my life. But you are me and my brother and my sister and we will never be able to adequately say thanks. But as you would say. It was a good life boys!

Thanks dad and happy birthday!

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You don't know everything!

7/16/2018

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So this will clearly need edititng....... since it is written in tear soaked eyes!!! But writing is how I cope!

"YOU DON'T KNOW EVERYTHING!"

My dad didn't yell at me much. He might be the kindest hearted person to ever live. (OK, maybe Mother Theresa, Ghandi and Lily Sayer, my grandmother, might be in contention for the crown!) So when he gave this one sentence to me when I was a teenager standing in the TV room of our house in Scituate, RI, it hit me between the eyes. Dad yelled at me - I wasn't used to that. I was suddenly reduced to a pea-sized pebble with absolutely no clue. This sounds dramatic perhaps, but I was a smug teenage jerk and this is how my dad, in a very subtle way, told me that is exactly what I was.

And then it was over!

Lesson learned.

And we moved immediately on. Well he did. He wouldn't hold any of it against me. He said his peace - I listened. He was right - I was wrong. We moved on.

My dad is a teacher. A man who believes in teaching people to enjoy life. He laughs all the time. He knows the world is a serious place and the responsibilities to life need to be taken to heart, but he also knows we need to laugh!

Me... I'm still learning!!

Today we lost this wonderful man.

He was born July 23, 1928. He was.... is a good man!

Hard to feel too much sadness for such a long and good life, but he was my dad.... So today I give myself the indulgence of sadness.

I love you pop!

We didn't say that much to each other, but it was assumed! (Assuming in my family is usually just as good thanks to a favorite story about my grandfather, pop's dad. Gramps was told one time that it might be nice if he thank my mom once in awhile for the meals and care she gave to him and he was shocked, and simply said--"I thought it was assumed!!!!!!"

We laugh about this all the time. I love my family!)

My dad knows how much I love him and respect him. It was assumed!

A little perspective:
My dad was drafted during the Korean war. He served! While over in Korea he obtained, through a connection with his aunt Toots McCall, a pen pal. This pen pal was Nancy Ann Williams and they wrote letters back and forth.
They had not met.
I stumbled upon a few of these letters decades later in the crawl space of our house in Scituate. I read a few, but realized these were personal and didn't read them all. My dad had a flare for words, a corny flare, but a flare none-the-less.

In any event, his words did something and I'm guessing Nancy's words to him did even more because when he arrived back in the states the first person he wanted to visit when his parents picked him up was Nancy!

It wasn't long after his arrival back in the states this picture was taken!

(Now this statement is just for family--does anyone else see Josh and Debbie in this picture--Josh is George and Nancy's grandson--so resemblance is a given-- and Debbie is Josh's beautiful wife)

I am incredibly struck by the fact that my existence is entirely based on a pen pal relationship during a war that is technically still going on(or was it ended recently????)

My mom and dad have been together since the beginning of Rock-n-roll. So today I can't even imagine what is going through her mind. The last time I saw them together, a little more than a month ago, dad was in the hospital and she was saying goodnight as we were going to leave him for the night. They still kissed each other goodnight!

64 years and they still kiss each other goodnight!

I've cried each time I've thought about this today. My mom won't have her George to kiss goodnight. My sadness seems petty compared to this.

(cry break!)

OK, I'm back!

This man gave me his attention, his lessons on life, his game and his unique perspective on relationships, love, dedication to your truth and even religion. This picture taken at the National Open tournament in 1978 is my favorite picture of me and my dad together. I'm sure he was saying something funny but the way he glances at me in this picture makes me know he was proud of me. (by the way--the other guy in this photo is my grampa Ray Sayer, George's dad. We bowled as a three-generation team). Grampa was a young 81.

Dad gave me my sport. He did this by taking me into a national tournament as a little kid. He took me into every tournament and would come home from work to pick me up a couple times a week for more games.
He did the same for my brothers a few years earlier. With me it stuck. With my brother Bob, it stuck. And as a result of this man's sacrifice when he was one of the best player's in the division and could've won tournament after tournament with another top player, but took us instead, teaching us and Bobby and I have since have won a couple of national championships.

You see, dad is a teacher. His thought was - lawn bowls could grow if we all taught. He didn't pick a team to win, he picked a team to compete while getting better, while growing the sport and interest. His idea is - train, graduate his trainees to train others and then move on to train the next group.
He is a selfless man.
He could've tamed up with another top bowler and won a national championship long before Bobby and I did, but he chose to teach. To nurture. To bring up the next generation.

He is a great man!

When I came across this picture the other day I just looked at my dad's facial expression. This was a man who provided the best he could for us and his face in this picture is one of pride. I hadn't seen that before. (I also hadn't truly noticed how stunning my mother is, even after 4 kids. Me - well I remember being a bit of a handful and being pissed off--but i think dad found a way to calm us all down enough for this oddly cool family portrait!

There are so many stories I want to tell. My dad had dozens of classic lawn bowling stories. He told my brother his two proudest moments in bowling was winning the Eastern Division doubles with basically a novice and when he and Bobby beat the kings of lawn bowls at the club level stopping them from advancing. The greatest line in lawn bowls came out of this game, the one guy on the other team said "I guess I'll have to unpack my bags!" because he was sure they would beat this club bowler playing with his 13 year old son!

But my stories with my dad are this. He took me into this game and taught me. He would teach me as if I was an adult. Within a couple years he promoted me and told me what that really meant. During that time he would make sure i could play even if he wasn't around. Then he had his dad take me to a tournament he couldn't play in and that formed a bond that I'll never be able to repay him for. I got to be best friends with my grandfather. The guy in that 3 generation photo above to the right of my dad.
So then my dad would take guys that are novices and I was grampas partner. What a gift to me. What a gift to those novices!
My dad is selfless!

I could go on and on about our lawn bowling. This was our greatest connection. We love the game, but we love the fact we could play the game together as family. And the laughing. My goodness we laughed a lot. We would recall details of game after game and just have a blast together. What a gift my dad gave me!

But my dad isn't just a lawn bowler. His lessons are many. Mostly practical ones like always put your wallet in the same pocket because it will feel weird if it isn't there and you'll remember to get it. Same with keys, but with keys, if you stop your car, even if you're sitting in it, take them out and put them in your pocket! That way you won't lock them in if you quickly get out of the car and forget they are in the ignition. A lesson proven true twice in my life when I didn't listen!)
And the responsibility of driving a car is akin to having a loaded gun. And he is absolutely right on that!

Dad isn't religious but he believes in this passage from the bible. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you!"

God I love this man. He needed to live forever!

As you can see my old man, my pop, my greatest inflluence in how to treat life and people really was in this game of life for the beauty of the fun it brought with it!

I could, and will say much more about him as a human being, but there is no greater legacy to this man than this. He was the kindest man I have ever known. My brother said it best. He was the kindest soul that has ever lived! (ok ... mother theresa....etc...)

So this was picture taken only a few weeks ago!
When I saw this, I saw every single inch of my dad in a single picture. It was part of a frame with my niece and my mom on either side. But i looked into this kind face and saw everything he ever taught me and lessons I'm still trying to learn from him as i try to walk forward in my own footsteps that he has given me!

I truly don't think I can give in this life the life my dad has given!

I love you pop! Thank you for this life!

I cannot thank you enough! What you gave me, and mom gave me the ability to hug, these are the things that have made me who I am!

RIP Pop! I love you! But I guess that was assumed.

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A sad that I I couldn't experience through another sadness

Hey pop, in case I forget, Happy Birthday

You don't know everything!

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