Today is the fourth anniversary of my Dad’s death, and the second anniversary for my dog, Teddy. When I woke up this morning, I realized, more than anything else, I wanted you to meet them.
I haven’t talked about grief much here, not directly. Right after my Dad died in 2020, writing about my grief helped me process the shock and stay connected. Writing was my solace and lifeline, as it always had been. But a month later, the pandemic descended and I lost access to my words.
As I said to Christine Koh in our recent Edit Your Life podcast conversation, I had to sit, stunned and silent for a time.
With healing distance, my words are coming back, and my perspective on grief has softened and expanded. Part of the bittersweet joy of parenting adult children is the grief of letting them go.
But on this anniversary day, I simply want you to meet my strong, quiet Dad and my scruffy, sweet Teddy. They felt close enough today that I could tug on the thread of memory and pull them into the present with us.
A couple years before he retired (40+ years as a Bechtel engineer), Dad set about choosing a hobby so he’d have something to keep himself busy. His friend and next-door neighbor, John, introduced him to the local woodcarving club, and Dad loved it. So began many years of carving classes through the local adult education program, and many small projects.
I once visited my parents while his club was in session. I tagged along with Dad and John and had a wonderful evening nibbling on supermarket cookies and listening to the old-timey conversation. My Dad was generally pretty quiet, but boy was he chatty at woodcarving club! Dad was often a mystery to me, so it was a delight to see that side of him.
Dad was a remarkable cook and had a thing for using up leftovers. (If you follow my Instagram stories, you might know I get my frugal cooking habits from him.) When my parents visited us in Portland, Dad would invariably wander into the kitchen, open the fridge, rifle through the produce drawer and ask, “so what are we making for dinner?”
Teddy joined our family when Sam was in elementary school and Mirabai was a toddler. I assumed he’d automatically become everyone’s immediate buddy, but he turned out to be a one-person dog. He liked everyone else well enough, but I was his Person.
In time, Teddy grew close to Rael and the kids, moreso as they grew older and more predictable. When Sam was away during freshman year, we included Teddy in our Facetimes. During those first early months, I suspect Sam missed Teddy most of all.
Teddy and I took daily neighborhood walks for 15 years. I wonder how many miles we covered?
Sigh. Thank you for helping me recall these moments. Sharing them with you feels nourishing right now. I’d also love to meet your dear ones — tag me on Substack Notes or Instagram (@ashadornfest) so I can see your photos.
I think I’ll head out for a walk now.
Love,
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Thanks for reading Parent of Adults, my invitation to compare notes on life beyond the empty nest. I’m Asha Dornfest, a Portland, Oregon-based author & parent of two young adults.
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How beautiful, Asha. A beautiful description of a beautiful man. He passed his gifts to you and his grandchildren.
Lovely to meet your dad and Teddy!