On this Easter Sunday morning I find myself reflecting back on the past few years and thinking what a blur! Much like the photo of the waterfall I took last week on a hike, I’ve been caught up in fast-moving water that has carried me along without much time to stop and think, let alone feel and experience. Yet this morning I am sitting quietly before sunrise, staring at a gorgeous full moon as it lights up Toronto and I am thinking about my family.
Why today? Why now?
It was three short years ago that I flew home from BC to be with my family as we struggled with news that my dear Dad, Jack, was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer weeks before Easter. I remember the immediate rush of emotions and the desire to hop on a plane and get home. And when that chance finally happened over the long Easter weekend, we awkwardly spent the first two days avoiding any conversation about what was happening, and what was about to happen. It was like living in a bubble of denial; a bubble we needed to just be together after a long absence; to feel normal and to just be. Finally, by the Sunday, the flood gates opened and we talked. We talked the whole day in fact. Well…Dad talked and Mum and I sat and listened.
He talked about his favourite songs. His favourite memories. His favourite stories, or yarns as he loved to call them. But Dad also shared regrets. Everyone who knows my Dad knew him to be a jovial, upbeat and always positive man. To hear he had regrets surprised me and immediately made me wish I had taken more time to have these important conversations before they became a necessity of time and circumstance. One regret in particular clung to me the days and weeks we had left with Dad. Very quietly he said to me “Pat, I have not cut a broad swath in this life.”
I sat in my chair across from Dad and blinked. Dad grew up a hard-working son of a hard-working farmer, and his farm life just did not permit vacations or travel beyond Ontario. Words failed me that Sunday as I didn’t know what to say or how to comfort him. I was unused to such frank discussions about the most important things in life from one of the most important people in my life. I just got up from my chair, crossed the room and hugged him. Then we shed quite a few tears. They felt endless. And then I flew back to my working life in BC, knocked sideways by the brevity of time and the broad expanse of miles that separated us. My arms could not reach across Canada although I desperately wished they could.
In the short months that followed and especially when Dad called me to come home in the final weeks of his life that hot July, thankfully I learned to be a better daughter. To listen. Ask questions. But most importantly, I had time to let Dad know how much he meant to me. To our family. While his swath may not have been broad, it was deep. He took such good care of us and we felt loved. Can there be a greater gift?
So on this Easter Sunday, I am thankful for the cherished gift of love, still deeply felt, even now. I miss Dad each and every day but I know his star shines just as bright as the moon above that is lighting my tears today. This is how I remember him best:
“Be humble, for you are made of earth. Be noble for you are made of stars.” – Serbian proverb.
Hi, I’m Patti, wonderer, wanderer and photographer. During the week I’m a marketer in the publishing industry and on weekends I take to the road to explore this beautiful planet we live on. 
Patti…that was a beautiful tribute to your Dad. No, your Dad maybe didn’t travel into faraway places but he certainly had the knowledge and history of this corner of the world. His stories, jokes and thoughts made me smile and think how worldly he actually was. He took time to smell the roses and investigate the little things that most of us walk by. I always appreciated his knowledge and wit. I see in you and Jen many of your Dad’s wonderful qualities. I never had daughters but considered you and your sister to have the qualities that any parent would be proud to see in their daughters. Happy Easter Patti!
Connie, thanks so much for these cherished memories of Dad (and for your kind comments!). I loved how Dad knew so much about the land and it’s animals and how we were all connected. I also admired his keen understanding of the weather, such as “rain before 7, clear before 11” – almost always true! And I know through the books that now occupy my bookshelf that Dad loved to travel and know the world through reading. We had many deep conversations about all sorts of topics and I learned so much. I keenly miss this kind, gentle and thoughtful mind and generous heart.
A very eloquent, moving, and honest tribute to your Dad, Patti. You will carry the torch of his memory proudly, forever and within you. And he is, of course, literally a part of you, and Jen, and his phenomenal grandchildren. He must have been so proud of all your far-flung rambles across this great land of ours and beyond, and of the substantial imprint that your work has made on education in our country. Greatness comes in many forms. And although I did not enjoy the privilege of knowing Jack Henderson in person, I do know that he was a great man.
Oh, thank you my dear Jane!
Beautiful Patti! It made me think about my Dad who also died of lung cancer 20 years ago. Like your Dad,he was humble and joyful…all about family. I miss him daily. There was never enough time and then,there wasn’t any time left. Thank you for this beautiful tribute to your Dad. 🙏
Hugs dear Dianne!
Beautiful tribute Patti. Uncle Jack was a special man, loved by many. HUGS
Oh thank you dear Marian!