A father’s present

The truck sped down the old dirt road leaving a billowing cloud of dust in its wake.  The song “Cats in the Cradle” by Harry Chapin Carpenter played as the old white church came into view.  “... He had grown up just like me.” He and his dad were like the song, always busy. Always away.

Away. He had been away when his father died suddenly. Somehow that didn’t fit into his tight schedule. But unfortunately, life didn’t check with him first. It had its own schedule.

He parked his truck beside the old church cemetery and opened the door. The blast of heat felt like opening an oven. Mississippi in June was brutal. (This year even more so than normal.)  Gravel crunched under his feet as he headed toward the graves.  Sweat started to run down his back.

What grass that was still alive needed cutting. Flowers wilted in the heat. The older stones were in the front of the cemetery nearest to the white wood sanctuary.  1889. 1906. 1945. 1967.  He came to the newer section and then to the newest grave.  His eyes watered as he read the name on the stone.  Jack Lawrence Eckles 1954-2011.

It was his father’s name. His name. And now his young son’s name.

“Hi dad,” he said. “I’m sorry I’m late. ”  The grave did not answer, but the young man hadn’t expected it to. “Jack III is growing up fast. He started pulling up while I was in Detroit.  He said, ‘mama’ while I was in Seattle.”  A crow cawed off in the distance and the wind whispered through the pines.  Then more silence.

The young man, a man on the rise who had never felt lower, sat down, leaned against his father’s headstone and pulled out a black leather journal.  He turned to the first open page and put his pen to the paper. He began to jot down the words that would change his family tree forever.

A few notes on Father’s Day 2011.

I will teach my son to think for himself. To have faith. To laugh. Be good to others. And to always love his mama.

I now realize that time is my true treasure. I will spend it wisely.  I will turn of the computer. I will turn off the TV. When I am there, I will be there.

I will love and respect my son’s mother so that someday he’ll follow the example and love and respect his wife.

I will make sure my son learns not from my words but from my example.

The best present I can give my family is to be present.

He closed the book. As much he loved his job, he realized he had signed up for a more important career: Raising a baby into a man.

He brushed his pants off, stood up and spoke to his Dad’s grave. “I love you dad. You’ve always taught me well. Even now.  And I’ll forever learn from you.  Just as I hope Jack III learns from me. Thank you for the finest Father’s Day present ever: The importance of being present.”

The hot sun had blurred the surrounding Mississippi countryside, making it hazy and out of focus.  But for the first time in his life, the young man saw clearly.

Before he left to go raise his son, he looked at the words chiseled on his dad’s grave and smiled: It takes one act to make you a father, it takes a lifetime to make you a Dad.