Watering the Fence

Posted on by Victoria

My dad died just a week before Father’s Day in 1997.  I’ve written about him a bit because he was a source of tremendous strength to me throughout my childhood.  He carried burdens of his own but still managed to set an example of how to be a good human.

Wynne and I recorded a podcast a few weeks ago, titled “Long Distance Letters” where I talked a bit about losing my papa suddenly – just as Wynne did – and how treasured and beloved our posthumous letters to them have been.  Those letters continue to provide support and inspiration.  The act of looking back, no matter how many years have passed, will forever be equal parts comforting and wistful.

Taking solace where I could find it, there were two additional things that ushered in peaceful feelings, despite the sense of loss, which persisted.  The first thing?  A quote that I hold dear even though I still don’t know the attribution:

Grief is an expression of gratitude. Remember with your whole heart.

I’ve tried to carry that thought, writing about my dad and remembering the gifts he bestowed upon me.  Bits of wisdom, often offered in an off-handed way but with resonance through the years.  Reminders to smile through pain and process later – whenever possible.  Poise in the moment. 

Although he’s been gone for twenty-six years, I can open a connection to him just by slowing down to remember.  With my whole heart.  It’s in those quiet moments where I find gratitude.  Blessed I am to have been his child.

The second thing that helped me, especially on that first Father’s Day, just a few days after he died, was a column from dear Ann Landers titled “What Are Fathers Made Of?”:

Maybe this was an annual inclusion in her column? I wasn’t a frequent reader of Ann’s (but my mom and her sisters were – skimming “Ann’s advice” was a regular morning ritual).

I saved the Chicago Tribune clipping from June 15, 1997, and put it in the album I made to remember my dad – especially the sun-filled days we spent with he, mom mom/Sue and Lisa while on vacation at their home, just a week before he died.  I have many fun photos of him with our DD (dear daughter) who was not quite three-years old at the time.  We had no idea time was so very short.  Pop over to Victoria Ponders to see a few favorite pics.

But back to Ann’s advice.  These lines from her Father’s Day column “What Are Fathers Made Of?”  in 1997 still pack a punch:

“…he works hard to try and smooth the rough places in the road.”

…”fathers give daughters away…so they can have grandchildren who are smarter than anybody’s.”

“I don’t know where fathers go when they die.  But I’ve an idea that after a good rest, wherever it is, he won’t be happy unless there’s work to do.  He won’t just sit on a cloud…he’ll be busy there, too, repairing the stairs, oiling the gates…smoothing the way.”

My dad? He didn’t like being still, so I imagine he’s similarly afflicted in the great beyond, indulging in his favorite annoying hobby — overwatering the plants surrounding his beloved pool.  Mom/Sue often barked at him to ‘stop watering the fence’ and they’d banter about who was the better gardener.

He knew what would get a rise out of her, periodically drenching the fence just to provoke.  His wink and trademark grin😉always gave away his true intent, but mom missed those telltale signs, already in a huff as he pulled out the hose.  Dad’s wink conveyed the truth; his mission was less about watering…more about stirring things up with Sue.  (And no, the photo I snipped in above isn’t him – it’s just a free image I found – conveying enough of a smirk to mimic my dad’s deviousness.)

Today I hope he’s watering all the fences he wants…just because. 

Vicki 😊

34 thoughts on “Watering the Fence”

  1. Pingback: Hello, Dad! – Victoria Ponders

  2. I love your dad just from what I have read about him in Surviving Sue. What a lovely tribute to him, and indeed—how blessed you were to have had him as a father. Happy Father’s Day to the hubster!

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    1. Oh…thank you, Julia. I think you two would’ve enjoyed each other…all wit and wisdom – both of you – with a healthy splash of big-heartedness. (Well, that and a little mischievousness, am I right?) And yes, yes! I will extend your greetings to the hubster – he’ll love that! 🥰

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      2. I love that you picked up on that, too, Julia! Yes, yes, yes! Both my dad and the hubs demonstrated quiet, assertive ways of dealing with Sue and she listened to them (often when I was tuned out). She had great respect for the dear hubster…and I think his calm manner helped both my mom (and me) more than I will ever fully understand. Thank you for seeing that! 🥰

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  3. PS re Surviving Sue: As soon as I’ve had enough ‘mulling time’ I will be delighted to send a review. See—this is why you need a ‘landing page’ so I’ll know where to land it! 🌹🥰

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    1. You’re wonderful – thank you again. Wynne has a brilliant idea about crafting a page just for that purpose…gathering feedback. More to follow…but thank you so much for mulling. Good, good, good! xo! 🥰

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  4. “He won’t be happy unless there’s work to do.” Oh, I love this. Isn’t that what dads are best at? Getting things done and helping to make the rest of our lives easier. And I love the story of your dad watering the fence just to get a rise out of your mom… a good sense of humor and fun is priceless. 🥰

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    1. You see him! Yep — it was never about the poor plants in need of a drink…always about needling Sue. And yes…what a sense of humor. I think that may have been one of his saving graces. xo! 🤣

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  5. Wonderful words about your dad and his influence in your life Vicki! Dad’s never stop do they? If there is a next place I know for sure my dad has his chainsaw roaring- cutting down alder (scrub in his vernacular) trees along some lakeshore and making perfect parallel lines with his mower up and down his highly manicured lawn.

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    1. I love that imagery…your papa and mine both doing their versions of ‘yard work’ LOL! Thanks so much for your sweet comment about my dad’s influence on me. Yes, yes. I’m grateful. 🥰

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  6. Oh, I love this beautiful post about your delightful dad. I feel this all the way through, ” I can open a connection to him just by slowing down to remember. ” Yes! And I’m laughing about watering the fence – such a wonderfully specific and indicative memory of who he was. Love love love! ❤ ❤ ❤

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      2. Yes, yes, yes — I’ll tell him you inquired! Our daughter and her boyfriend came for a big, big brunch and we’re all stuffed to the brim. Thanks so much, Brenda! 🥰

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  8. Your dad sounds like one of a kind — irreplaceable, for sure. Missing dads makes an almost automatic connection with people, as does losing them too soon. For those of us who loved our dads, it is almost always too soon. Thanks, Vicki.

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  9. Your father was a profound gift to you and your sister Lisa as he faced daily daunting challenges. I believe a father’s love is eternal and without end – and thanks for sharing his wisdom with us today and everyday!

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  11. Grief is an expression of gratitude. Oh, yes, yes, thank you for sharing this wise and beautiful post. He sounds like a wise and wonderful father. And yes, here’s hoping he’s having lots of free time watering the fence. Love the humor and kindness expressed in your post. Happy Father’s Day to a wonderful example and role model!

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  13. My late husband was much like that–always with a project and never still. He loved gardening and growing things. My own late father, who died at 92 2 years ago, was a quiet and kind man with a delightful sense of humor. I learned so many lessons from both of them and often ask myself what each one of them would say and do in various situations.

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    1. Hello, Margaret! Thank you for sharing…quiet, kind and a delightful sense of humor? Your father must’ve been a wonderful human…and your husband too — always in motion. I understand that! Thank you for stopping by and for your lovely comment. 😊

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