Memorial Day Memory

For many years we traveled each Memorial Day weekend to northern New Jersey to visit my mother and father.  I remember, particularly, the year 2000, as one of the most enjoyable and meaningful.  

My father and I spent several hours pulling weeds in Mom’s iris gardens for each of the two days of our visit, as we always did.  We walked together through the orchard and checked out his vegetable garden as we always did.  We sat in the front lawn and gazed out upon the distant mountains, as Dad tended to the roast on the grill, as he always did.

On the last day of our visit Dad and I again tackled the weeds in the iris beds, and my father, always so strong and able (in his son’s eyes) said he needed to go rest for a while.  That was so unusual!  I joined him in the living room and we had a wonderful conversation that still re-plays in my mind from time to time. 

We returned home on Monday and on Tuesday morning I received a call from my brother.  He told me that Dad had gone to work (he had retired, but was doing some consulting work) and had simply collapsed and died at the age of 82.  Sixteen years have passed by and today I’ll pull some weeds from the iris garden (my mother’s iris) and listen to John McDermott sing: “The Old Man.”

The tears have all been shed now

We've said our last good-bye

His soul's been blessed and he's laid to rest

And it's now I feel alone

I never will forget him for he made me what I am

Though he may be gone memory lingers on

And I miss him... The old man

I thought he'd live forever

He seemed so big and strong

But the minutes fly and the years roll by

For a father and his son

And suddenly when it happened

There was so much left unsaid

No second chance to tell him thanks

For everything he's done

I never will forget him for he made me what I am

Though he may be gone memory lingers on

And I miss him... The Old Man