RIP Father.

It was on a Friday after work back in the fall of 1981 when I ventured over to the Northtown Shopping Plaza in Willowdale. The plaza was not too far from where I worked and I was already very familiar with this area. Fifteen years earlier it was where we did our weekly shopping at the Dominion store while I was living at my grandmother's house on Byng Ave. A brand new jewelry store had just opened and they advertised in the daily paper claiming to have the best prices on engagement rings in the whole city.

As easy as it sounds buying an engagement ring is not that easy at all. There are so many different styles, sizes, grades, prices and you can literally spend a small fortune on a diamond engagement ring.

I feel sorry for the poor schmuck who gets sucked into the three month salary spiel as to what he should be spending on his future wife’s ring. At the time three month’s salary for me was well over $10k. Just a couple months earlier I worked at Collegiate and it was less than $3k. I could never be or would I want to be with any woman who was expecting me to spend ten grand on her engagement ring simply based on my income. I left the store on that Friday with Bonnie’s engagement ring all picked out and if I recall it cost me just over $1500 or about eight day's salary. I paid a deposit and put the ring on layaway until my mid-December final payment.

I was so happy that something I thought would be so difficult ended up being so easy for me afterall. And most importantly I would now be asking Bonnie to be my wife at Christmas just as I had planned. I diligently made all my weekly payments and I picked up the ring in early December. I showed my mother the ring and told her of my plans to propose to Bonnie. I told her I was assuming Bonnie would say yes since we were already talking about getting married. I explained that we would be married within a year, but most likely it would not be until the following fall. I put the ring in the pocket of my suit jacket hanging in my closet. It was the same jacket I hadn’t worn since the last time I went to the Kingdom Hall.

I had given much thought as to how I would pop the big question. I decided I would take Bonnie out for Chinese food to propose. After we ate the waiter would bring the bill with our fortune cookies. I would have the restaurant put the ring inside one of the fortune cookies and instead of the little fortune inside 'WILL YOU MARRY ME?' would be written instead. I knew I wanted to make my proposal different and unique. Afterall, I would only be getting engaged once in my lifetime.

The fortune cookie idea would be my plan 'A'.

Also in early December and right out of the blue my mother received a phone call from my nana. Both my nana and mother had not spoken to each other in years. I think the last time was when poppy and her had brought down their old television set to our apartment in the Jungle ten years earlier. My nana told my mother that my father would like to see me and my brother. My mother told my nana all about Bonnie and that I was planning to marry her. She then invited all four of us to dinner at her apartment up in Aurora.

Both my brother and I were shocked; I immediately said I would not be seeing my father. He was dead to me and I wanted nothing to do with him ever again.

After some discussion my stance softened.

My mother thought it would be nice for both my brother and me to see him, afterall he was our father. Perhaps my father was sending us an olive branch hoping it might lead to a relationship. A relationship he now regrets that he never had with his two sons. My mother told us whatever happened in the past was done and could never be undone. But going forward maybe things could be better. I could clearly see the Jehovah’s Witness way of turning the other cheek, forgive and forget and let bygones be bygones on full display with my mother.

Maybe she was right, but I still was not convinced. My mother then told me she thought it would be nice for me to introduce Bonnie to my father. I agreed and my mother phoned my nana back and told her all four of us would be coming for dinner.

It was a Sunday mid-afternoon two weeks later when the four of us drove up to Aurora in my car. None of us really knew what to expect as we drove up to see the man who was responsible for so much heartache and misery in our lives. If nothing else it promised to be an emotional evening. On our drive I remember thinking how Yonge Street had changed so much since the last time I had visited my grandparents with my father. There was so much urban sprawl now and a lot less greenery. We drove past the cemetery where my poppy was buried and then under the green CN Bridge.

We were now in Aurora.

At about 5 pm we arrived at my nana’s ground floor apartment which was located just off of Yonge Street. My nana answered the door and my father who was already there came over to greet us. My father looked so much older and different since the last time I had seen him. He seemed a lot thinner, but he still had his big stomach. My father always had what you would call a bit of beer gut; it just seemed more prominent now on his thinner frame. He had very short hair and was still wearing black rimmed glasses.

My father gave both me and my brother a hug and I introduced him to Bonnie. My mother and father were both very cordial over the course of the evening. I forgot what my nana had made for supper, but I do remember there were no parsnips. Only because I had remarked “What, no parsnips?” while we were sitting at the table.

To this day I don’t remember a lot about seeing my father after so many years on that night. I kept my true feelings for him just simmering inside me. There was too much water under the bridge and we weren’t there to rehash the past on that evening. My nana was still the sweet old lady that I had always remembered. She was now in her eighties and like my other grandmother she was living alone in an apartment. She was pretty mobile and she was still driving her car.

As the evening progressed, it was not at all as awkward as it potentially could have been.

My father told my brother and me that we had both grown up to be fine young men. He told our mother that she had done a good job raising both of us. My father thanked all of us for coming to see him; he acknowledged that it couldn’t have been easy for us after being out of our lives for so long. As we said our goodbyes both my brother and I agreed to leave the door open for us maybe getting together again in the future. Our father was by no means trying to push himself back into our lives, but he did say he looked forward to seeing us again. Although we weren’t officially engaged and we had no wedding date set, I suggested that maybe he would like to come to our wedding.

He told me that he would love to attend.

We didn’t stay too late and the four of us left around 9 pm.

Later that month on Christmas Eve Bonnie was over at my apartment. My mother and brother were at the Kingdom Hall for their Thursday night meeting. It was very rare for Bonnie and me to have any privacy at all or to be alone in my apartment. We had both been feeling a little amorous and while Bonnie lay on my bed, I handed her the little jewelry box that had been in my suit jacket. With no Chinese waiter or fortune cookies in sight, I would now be resorting to my plan 'B'.

Bonnie opened the box and gasped, she immediately started to cry. I told her I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and asked her to marry me as I slipped the ring on her finger.

“Yes” she said while wiping tears from her eyes.

She told me she was so happy and I too was very happy. I was now engaged to the girl who had stolen my heart on the first day I saw her at Collegiate Sports. The same girl I had told so many friends that I would someday marry. The same girl those same friends told me over and over I never had a chance in hell. I had known Bonnie for just 856 days and now she wanted to be my wife.

Although looking back, I do now wish I had gone with my plan 'A'.

Over the next few days, we let everyone know who mattered to both of us that an impending wedding was in their future. All we knew for sure was we were planning on a fall date and we would be letting everyone know once all the plans were finalized. Everyone was very happy for both of us and they all looked forward to sharing our big day with us.

The year 1981 had been such a great year for me in so many ways. There were many firsts I will never forget and I had so much to look forward to. As the year wound down, I knew one thing was for sure. I would never be having any type of future relationship with my father. Even had I wanted to explore the possibilities of having my father back in my life, it was not meant to be. My father passed away on December 29th while in Orillia. He died of a heart attack and he was just forty-nine years old.

I had many mixed emotions after my Uncle Howard who was my father’s brother called my mother to let us know. Of course there was sadness and as well a bit of disbelief since I had just seen him just two weeks earlier. It seemed so ironic that he had requested a visit with all of us and within a couple weeks he was dead. Maybe my father knew he was sick, he didn’t have much time and he wanted to see his sons for one last time. If that was indeed the reason, then I am happy that I did see him before he died.

I am also happy that he acknowledged my mother for raising both of their sons to be fine young men. I am sure my father died with many regrets, perhaps he too like all of us wished he could have had a few do-overs in his life. I truly don’t know if my father and I would have had any type of relationship. Had we ever tried to mend the fences, I would have needed to divulge all my true feelings. All the feelings of anger that I had built up over the years. I would have needed to wipe the slate clean and it was a very dirty slate. Then and only then could he have worked on trying to become my dad instead of just the father he was.

On Saturday January 2nd 1982, the four of us who had visited my father just two weeks earlier were now on our way back up to Aurora. I remember reminiscing as we drove through the front gates of the Aurora Cemetery. My father would always point to all the graves as we drove past and tell us how people were just dying to get in there.

Funny how I thought something that was once so funny, didn't seem so funny anymore.

RIP Father.