My Father

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My Father

Dean Arthur Johnson

My father was a dreamer
He was always thinking
He always had a scheme
He would analyze what was going on and tell you how to do it better
He would explain his latest invention that would change the world
Everything in his life had plans
He was going to get the thunderbird an upgrade, he was going to add a ramp to the van for his scooter, he was going to use those railroad ties to build his mother a flower bed.
All the things on that list he completed
For each thing on that list there were 10 others he never got around to
Perhaps it was a result of him being wheelchair bound but I don’t think so, that just exacerbated it
It made him seem flighty, what was the most important thing today wasn’t tomorrow
It seemed like nothing ever got accomplished
I hated that

I find myself dreaming
I have plans most everything
I’m going to build a shed for tools, a barn for a workshop, I’m going to get a tool rack for my tractor, I want to bury our powerlines, and I have a list of tools that I must have
How many of these things will I accomplish?
I find I don’t accomplish much of what I think about
I still don’t like flighty, I like to know the direction, the steps, and to be able to complete them in some semblance of order.
I don’t like priority changes for no apparent reason
I now highly value him instilling in me the ability to envision something not easily apparent
I didn’t when he was alive

My father was momma’s little boy

Everything hurt him more than anyone else could possibly understand
I distinctly remember him asking me to call his mother when he was sick
I refused

I now realize that I never experienced Multiple Sclerosis
I have no doubt his pain was great
My intolerance of this part of him as a young man is a source of shame to me

My father Cared

He felt for people
He understood the circumstances in people’s lives that caused their behavior and didn’t hold it against them.
He thought the best of people
He forgave people

I find that he drove deep down into me that people are generally good and want to do good
Sometimes they just need a smile or a kind word

I try not to blame
I try not to hold grudges
In the heat of the moment I often fail
But when I think about it later, I can think of it from their point of view
Or at least my best guesstimation of it
There was a time in my life I forgave everyone quickly
Now maybe yes, maybe no
I desperately need to get back to quick forgiveness

My father was a free thinker

He would often yell at the news anchor, call him a liar
He would always explain why

I now automatically doubt everything I see on TV
I find I don’t believe things most people do
I often believe things that are unpopular
I try to get viewpoints all around a subject then make up my mind
I am grateful for this lesson

My father could be mercurial

He had a rage in him that came quickly
His medication magnified his rages
He could totally melt down over nothing
He valued respectfulness
A sure way to get stern warning was disrespect
Disrespect often comes from a lack of understanding

I have some patience, when it is gone though…..
It often makes no sense to anyone else when I get mad
Stress has magnified my rages

My father was lonely

He loved my visits and was happy I was there
He was charismatic and a people person

There was a deep sadness from his isolation in the nursing home
All the other residents were 30 years his senior
He would ask me everything I knew about everyone he could think of

I am now almost crying as I type this
What an utter scumbag I was, I didn’t like to visit him there
I would give anything to be able to visit him now.