REGRET
I’ve Wanted to Say Goodbye for Thirty Years
And I love you
I abridged and italicized my Dad’s Wind Phone responses. Debra Groves Harman, MEd wrote about The Wind Phone here.
Give it a go.
Hello Dad,
It’s good to hear your voice. I wish I could see you.
Oh, you don’t have a body. Really? Well, a voice is better than nothing.
How are you doing?
Being, not doing.
Interesting. You were agnostic. So Buddha was right?
It’s more complicated than that. Gotcha. We’ll need more than four minutes for that conversation.
Two years ago, cousin Jim talked with you. He collapsed on his kitchen floor from low blood sugar. His wife Linda said he was out for about a minute. You came to him and said it wasn’t his time yet. He had more work to do.
I see. You don’t need a Wind Phone. The late theologian Marcus Borg wrote about thin places. Maybe the living doesn’t need a Wind Phone.
You’ve been on my mind and in my dreams.
What’s that?
Dreams are a kind of wind phone from where you are. Really?
It's been too long.
Thirty years.
March 1, 1993. Early morning. Mom called.
Told me you had been waiting for me.
Until you couldn’t anymore.
How much time do we have?
Only four minutes. Wind Phones are like Electric Car charging stations, too few. Long lines.
I agree. Fossil fuels were a problem. You were ahead of your time on that issue, too.
By the way, Wind Phones have a new feature. Life-bound folks can upload three photos.
Yeah, I thought your engineer's mind would appreciate continual updates.
Expect calls from Pat & Peter. Maybe photos from Pat.
I know. Gardners aren’t good at staying in touch.
I’m trying to do better. Later this week, I will call Peter. No Wind Phone is needed. He lives in Florida. Pat and I email every two months.
Email? I’ll explain next time.
Yes, you do look robust and healthy in the first photo.
How many years did it take you to perfect the bread recipe?
Three. That’s what I thought. You did enjoy selling it at the Davenport Farmer’s Market.
Sinus cancer took that away. Took you away from us.
Right, it took us away from you.
Are you in a better place?
Different. OK.
People loved your bread. The multi-grain Sort-a-white was my favorite. That label might get you in trouble in 2023.
Why? I’ll explain another time.
Speaking of baking, remember that toddler you held? Below is your grandson Ben. Now 31. He’s been making bread for several years. Sometimes talent does skip a generation.
He majored in philosophy in college.
I thought you would approve.
How have I been doing?
A lot has happened in thirty years, Dad. Wanda and I divorced. Ben was 10. We worked hard at easing the transition for him. I bought a house two blocks from Wanda.
I know. Divorce is hard on the kids. That’s what mom always said. She passed six years ago. Is she with you?
It’s complicated. I understand. We’ve got lots to talk about. That’s why we’re only given four minutes.
About 10 years after the divorce, I met Rebecca. We’ve been together for 12 years. That’s us below.
Yes, I’m lucky.
We do look comfortable together. Are comfortable together.
Mom had a couple of years to get to know Rebecca.
And she liked her.
I know, a surprise.
Rebecca liked her back.
You’d like Rebecca. She’s curious, kind, and analytical.
Just like you.
No, we’re not married. Seventy-year-old hippies.
I thought you’d enjoy that. We did use to argue, didn’t we?
I dreamt about you again last night.
The same dream. I am walking down the driveway you rebuilt many times.
You aren’t in the house but will be coming back soon.
And I need to tell you something.
Three things.
Now, I can.
The weekend before you died, I was at a Mock Trial competition in Des Moines. I came back to my hotel room many times to check to see if I had any messages. You were in hospice care at home.
I should have skipped that damn tournament. My co-coach Alan could have driven the van and handled everything.
I know. Guilt is a useless emotion.
I never said goodbye.
Or that I loved you.
If only I could have held your hand.
Stroked your forehead.
Thank you for being the father I needed.
I’ve longed to hear those words from you.
Next time, an Email tutorial. You can help me understand being and not doing.
American Politics?
We’re going to need more time.
I love you, Dad.
