My dad has the most generous heart. I think it's from him that I have learned to be generous with what I have. We never had a lot, but we had a lot. And we had enough to give.
One of the moments I vividly remember about my dad happened outside of Verizon. Me, my mom, and dad had just gotten a new plan with new phones and we were walking out of the store. Mom and I crossed the street, but dad was stopped by a woman in a car that was really bad off.
My mom and I turned in the opposite direction, but my dad stayed. The next image I remember was him pulling his wallet from his pocket, giving her what little cash he had, and he waved as she drove away. As he walked back to us, waiting at the car, he was quiet.
I was stunned by what I had just seen. Perception of my dad was for as much as he does not like the welfare system and how people take advantage of it, I thought that he wouldn't be interested in giving to anyone asking for money. But, boy, was I wrong.
We got into the car and dad was quiet in the driver's seat. And from the back seat, I saw him cup his hands in his face and he started to cry. "It's just not fair," he grieved. "It's just not fair to have to live like that."
I reclined back and took a moment to process my father, so moved by his emotion for a stranger.
It should haven't surprised me as it did. My dad has always been generous. With me, with my family, with my friends, with my boyfriends and their families, my husband and his family, with his friends. With my brother.
With my brother, my father is not only generous, but compassionate. He is a compassionate caregiver who has taken time to understand my brother. On the autism spectrum, my brother has to live a certain way with certain things. And because his life is so different, the little things, albeit little, are so big. Like his wanting a Wendy's hamburger daily. Because it's part of his routine. With autism, routine is part of the lifestyle. Disrupt the routine and it can cause major pain. So my dad (and my mom) drive (not every day but) a lot of days to pick him up a hamburger. They love my brother so well.
I had an epiphany while I was writing this that my dad is the most creative person I know. Right now, because he's not used to this Memphis weather where his plants can't grow, he's purchased fake plants and lined them up next to each other like a garden. I'll say he has the most colorful garden in all the neighborhood.
I remember growing up that my dad was always building something. Usually something in our background. He's built so many decks. He build a shed. He built the things that go over a sitting area--like a gazebo, right? He loves to create things.
Thinking about it, there is so much of my that reminds me of my dad. Building things, searching for things, finding little treasures in Goodwill, rearranging furniture, always adding, always building, always nesting.
As I end this tonight, I am just so thankful that he and the rest of my family chose to move here to be with me. It was a life changing decision for the both of us, and I do take it for granted. I am so thankful to have time with them without having to worry about the distance between us.
