My late dad & mum ~~~ Alan & Amy Freeman during their better days
Fathers’ Day tomorrow!
But first; Mothers’ Day. Mothers’ Day is an age-old tradition; for me it’s a Christian thing because in England it always falls on the fourth Sunday of Lent, halfway through Lenten Season. Here in Canada and the United States it’s celebrated on the second Sunday in May. Fathers’ Day also has a long history, though not as long as Mothering Sunday. I’m only aware of celebrating fathers on the third Sunday in June but I know it has other dates in other countries.
My lovely bride, Jane, and I celebrated our first parent-type day on Mothers' Day 1990. This year we’re both celebrating our 28th Mothers' Day and Fathers' Day! During these events we have received many gifts and tributes from our three kids, Martin, Zoe and Alex; all adults in their own rite now. Over the years they have made us proud, made us feel loved, taken us to levels of frustration I didn’t know were imaginable, blessed us always with their individual triumphs, required our assistance in the capacity of emergency-response-team and the list goes on. However, like with any true relationship, it's a reciprocal one.
Last year my son, Martin, and my youngest daughter, Alex, joined me at my airline’s annual golf tournament in Toronto. Martin flew all the way across the country from Vancouver Island in British Columbia to join us. A great day, and Alex even won lady’s closest to the pin.
In that week after golf I almost choked to death on some raw almonds. My fault, I put too many in my mouth and then suddenly I couldn’t breathe; my airway was blocked. Thank God my family were all in the house. Zoe noticed it first and called out to everyone that dad is choking and tried to clear it using the Heimlich manoeuvre; bless her heart but she wasn’t big enough to get her arms round my portly torso! Martin took over and was heaving on me for all he’s worth, Alex picked up her phone and called 911 and Jane could only stand there holding on to Zoe and watch. I was watching too, and I was thinking I wish I could just say that I am so sorry and I love you all very, very much but I couldn’t. I was fading but Martin kept on heaving and eventually, as if fired from a sling-shot, something that resembled a scotch egg flew in to the air. I still couldn’t breath. Martin kept up his work and finally cleared the last obstruction and I could breath.
My lovely bride, Jane, and I celebrated our first parent-type day on Mothers' Day 1990. This year we’re both celebrating our 28th Mothers' Day and Fathers' Day! During these events we have received many gifts and tributes from our three kids, Martin, Zoe and Alex; all adults in their own rite now. Over the years they have made us proud, made us feel loved, taken us to levels of frustration I didn’t know were imaginable, blessed us always with their individual triumphs, required our assistance in the capacity of emergency-response-team and the list goes on. However, like with any true relationship, it's a reciprocal one.
Last year my son, Martin, and my youngest daughter, Alex, joined me at my airline’s annual golf tournament in Toronto. Martin flew all the way across the country from Vancouver Island in British Columbia to join us. A great day, and Alex even won lady’s closest to the pin.
In that week after golf I almost choked to death on some raw almonds. My fault, I put too many in my mouth and then suddenly I couldn’t breathe; my airway was blocked. Thank God my family were all in the house. Zoe noticed it first and called out to everyone that dad is choking and tried to clear it using the Heimlich manoeuvre; bless her heart but she wasn’t big enough to get her arms round my portly torso! Martin took over and was heaving on me for all he’s worth, Alex picked up her phone and called 911 and Jane could only stand there holding on to Zoe and watch. I was watching too, and I was thinking I wish I could just say that I am so sorry and I love you all very, very much but I couldn’t. I was fading but Martin kept on heaving and eventually, as if fired from a sling-shot, something that resembled a scotch egg flew in to the air. I still couldn’t breath. Martin kept up his work and finally cleared the last obstruction and I could breath.
My life was saved. I can’t help but think of the irony that it was his mother and I that gave our children their life and in return they gave me back mine. They all had a part in it but without Martin’s size and strength I dread to think of the outcome.
On 2nd May this year at Grand Bend in Ontario our Irish Setter, Maggie, fell into a river that flows in to Lake Huron. She went under twice and I couldn’t stand it; I leapt into the six-foot drop down to the river after her. That water was bloody cold as well as deep and there was also a strong current. I will save this story for another day. The irony is this; if Martin hadn’t cleared my airway and saved my life, I wouldn’t have been there to save Maggie’s life. I believe that is what Clarence the angel said to George Bailey in the classic Frank Capra Christmas movie, It’s a Wonderful Life.
Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Birthday, Christmas Day, Easter Day, any day; I believe each and every day is a gift and must be treated as such. Some people are just trying to get through their day instead of trying to get something from their day. Some say you should live this day as if it is your last. How about living it as your first? Every day is another gift; it can even allow you to make a fresh start, if that’s what you need. So, if you have to, use it as a new beginning.
Life, to me, means everything because of my beautiful family. How lucky can a guy get? I have three adult children who amaze me and a lovely bride who has shared my days for over 32 years. For me, personally, my thanks do need to be to God. But that's my belief.
Happy Fathers’ Day!
Carpe Diem.
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