Posted by: PD Warrior | February 9, 2016

Here, There, and Everywhere…

I caught myself looking in the mirror the other morning, just staring, comparing myself to mental images, memories seared into my mind of my father. I’m not sure exactly what I was looking for, but I was looking none the less.

Oh, there were the obvious things, the familial traits. But that wasn’t what I was looking for. All families share genetics, those are the obvious things, but I was searching for something different.

Then there’s the Parkinson’s Disease. My dad came down with PD later in life, where I came down with it in my late 30’s. Toward the end he had the Parkinson’s mask that I am oh so afraid of getting, but again, that wasn’t what I was trying to find.

I was trying to figure out just how much I was like him on a personal basis.

I remember once, as a child, probably in my teens, someone told me I was just like him. And it mortified me! How dare they say that! We were nothing alike, at least in my mind, and I wanted nothing to do with ever being like him. Or so I thought.

It wasn’t that we didn’t get along, because we did in our own unique way. It’s just that I was me, and he was he, and we were two totally different people.

He was quiet and reserved, while I am loud and out going.

At one point, before the Parkinson’s, I was a fairly accomplished pianist. My father couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket to save his life, much less play an instrument.

He had his gardens, and I hate plants.

He was stubborn as a mule, and me? Well, okay, I’ll give you that one. I’m as stubborn as two mules. But that’s as far as the similarities went.

Or so I thought.

Then the other day I caught something in the corner of my eye as I was walking down the hall. It was my shadow. And for a brief second I saw my father in the silhouette I was casting. It wasn’t in the shape so much as it was the stance. It was him.

Do I do that often? Nah, couldn’t be. I smiled at the brief reminder of the man, then went on my way. Business as usual. That was, until I saw it again. Then I started to look for it. Once I started looking, I saw it again, and again, and again.

In everything…

From the way I walk – and granted, part of that is the Parkinson’s, but not all of it. To the things I say; right down to singing stupid little songs to my dog, just as he sang stupid little songs to the dog we had while I was growing up.

So yes,I found myself staring into the mirror, deep in thought, wondering just how much I am like my father. As I came out of my silent reverie, I found myself face to face with the same stupid little grin he always had when he was up to something.

Perhaps whoever it was that told me, all those years ago, that I was just like my father was right. And I’m okay with that.

My father passed away over a decade ago, and I find myself thinking of him often…and missing him. Perhaps I won’t need to miss him quite so much, now that I know I’m carrying a little part of him with me everywhere I go.

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