Oh You Two

I called him pa. Only because it was an endearing way to tease him about his old age. He wasn’t really all that old when I started this jest but the name stuck nonetheless. We bonded over our shared sarcasm and dry humour. My mom always muttered, “oh you two” when we would go on with some macabre topic. Reality is we found humour in very deep and uncomfortable moments because we were realistic about our mortality. Pa was also a storyteller and like father, like daughter, I seemed to have followed this path. Of the many lessons pa has passed on to me there are a few pivotal memories that come full circle in both our lives. My memories of our summer adventures shaped me at the beginning of my life’s story and for pa it gave him comfort at the end of his life story.

We spent most summer vacations in our trusty steed, the Westfalia van. Piled in the van was myself, mom, pa, and our black cocker spaniel fur baby. This dog was especially bonded with pa. He was an adventurer and instilled in me a love for travel and exploration. He would windsurf on the ocean and I would take my own mini adventures in books that he encouraged me to read. Along the road we would stop in all the small coastal towns and search out the one or two used bookshops that seem to be a standard commodity in these historical towns. The familiar smell of old dusty books and salty ocean air will always bring me right back there. We were searching for the old Nancy Drew books to complete the whole set. It was a treasure hunt we did on each of these summer vacations. The anticipation of finding our treasure was a thrill. Pa would whirl around the van if we spotted even one used bookstore along the way. No store was left un-searched.

One simple but impactful game we would play came on spontaneously. Anyone looking in would wonder why this was so outrageously fun. I have named them our cheezie wars. Picture neon orange puffs of corn flying through the air with an ocean soaked dog eyeing every kernel that leaves our hands as we skirt the coastal roads. Now if you don’t know what a cheezie is, they do come in many forms, and I highly recommend the dive into the snack food. As the neon orange puffs of cheese goodness flew through the air my furry best friend would ensure that the remnants of our artillery were promptly cleared away, leaving no evidence of our friendly fire. The only one not enjoying this wild moment was my mom. “Oh you two”. Eating cheezies and reminiscing over these fights led to traditions of cheezie gifts and bonded memories. No holiday or moment with pa could be without the loving gift of cheezies.

The van that carried us through these adventures was also a teacher in that it struggled every day to have the power to move and continue forward. But the tenacious creature always did. We would let out a big cheer every time our van made it up those steep hills. I like to think it felt appreciated and would continue to carry our small family through winding hills and coastal roads that proved to be unforgiving at times. It was faithful and pa knew just how to keep her going, clocking mile after mile even as she groaned with protest.

Just as all things must end, so did our van. I mourned the selling of the Westfalia van as it marked the official ending of these prominent trips that had such a lasting impression on me, even though at the time I had already moved on to adolescent activities in summer and didn't want to spend so much time with the parents.

These trips into the unknown taught me much about growth, bravery, openness, perseverance, strength and so much more but they also made their everlasting mark on pa. No fear, was a common phrase on stickers and t-shirts in the coastal communities. Pa certainly seemed to have no fear as he conquered the ocean on his windsurfing board, rode motorcycles across the country, climbed mountains and ice fields to name but a few of his adventures. There were no limits and he was always challenging himself.

At the time, I did not know how important these trips were to pa. During his short time in hospital, fighting cancer, he shared spontaneously with me one day of his memory of the coast. He told me that when he was in pain or needed to feel some comfort he would think of the time we were on the beach and watched me twirl my fabric wand, carefree and joyful. Pa had many of his own demons to fight and I believe he found peace and joy on these vacations. So much joy that even in his dying he could go back there in his mind. “Live life as if there was no plan B,” he would say. No waiting for things to happen, make them happen.

Pa died at the age of 70. I now carry his spirit and lessons into my everyday life. These memories are now the bond I have left and cheezies will be an annual tradition till it is the end of my own story. Every time I smell the ocean and feel the soft sand on my feet, or walk into an old used bookstore I will be filled with joy and honour this gift of memory my pa gave to me.