.....to me that summer morning at Canaan Country Kitchen, Dad would have turned 85 today. I will never forget that few moments on a Saturday morning in Canaan. I remember it so well because to the rest of my siblings at the time, my fathers drinking was just an every day occurrence and it became a typical visual whenever we would go see Dad next door at the restaurant.
I remember it was about mid morning or so because it was just starting to get warm out and I was taking a break from helping Dad in the kitchen. He told me to go take a break and if I wanted, I could go to the take out window and he would scoop me some ice cream in a cone. On my way out, 2 men walked in(even though we weren't open at the time)and said hi to me as we passed one another. I knew who these men were and they were very friendly to me...always had been. There names were Harold and David. I knew them not only because they came to visit Dad frequently, but they would bring him in a pint bottle of vodka a couple times a week. But for some reason, this one morning it just rubbed me the wrong way.
Anyway, I stood at the take out window for a few minutes and waited for Dad to come and give me my ice cream cone(I was about 12 or 13). He didn't come over so I put my hands up to the winder to shade the sun and looked in. I saw Dad and his 2 friends in the kitchen tipping up that bottle, each sharing a swig. This was the first time that I remember being upset. I started crying as I stood away from the window.
I remember turning around and just looking out onto the street out front, wicked upset. I wanted to say something to him so bad. I wanted my father to just stop drinking!!! As I am writing this, I am getting angry at him for drinking, but I also feel that lump in my throat at the same time. Angry and upset, at the same time. Not often that happens I must say.
I then turned around and decided to pound on the window to get his attention. I was going to have to go back in the kitchen to help Dad in short order and I wanted my ice cream. I pounded, he looked over at me and then just turned around and began swigging, joking and chatting with his friends. I didn't want to pound again cause he had an awful temper. Not a temper where he would physically hurt me or even yell at me, but the kind of look that would quickly "put me in my place".
To heck with it, I started crying and I mean sobbing crying. I decided I wanted more than an ice cream at that point. I put my hands up on the window again to shade my face as I put my nose right onto the glass. I, very gently, knocked one more time. He turned to me and walked over. He opened the sliding glass window and with the most stern face I remember he just stared at me with his pursed lips. I knew that meant he was angry but I didn't care.
"Dad, will you please stop drinking?" I actually asked him that while very audibly crying. I honestly thought he was going to get mad but he didn't. His face turned to a more loving look and he replied "We will talk about it later." I said okay, wiped my cheeks and he dipped into the ice cream freezer and scooped some ice cream into a cone. After handing it to me, he just stood there and looked at me. I remember me telling him that I loved him and he almost...almost....nodded his agreement. I could tell, even though he didn't acknowledge it, that he loved me too.
.jpg)
He never did stop drinking and I soon forgot all about what had happened after Dave and Harold left. I went back to work and all I remember is him being so nice to me for the rest of the day. But he didn't bring that little conversation up again.
To this day, that was the most upsetting time of my life...right next to the day he passed away in the ICU room when it was just him and I together.
Today he would have been 85 years old.....and still alive if he had just listened to me. Boy I hate you Dad for not listening to me, and I love you more than anything.
