ALS – Jennifer's Journal

“That’s my father”…

Published on March 21, 2013June 13, 2018 by J. Kelland Perry47 Comments

Missing you on Father's Day — My dad in his younger days

When we were little children, my dad worked as a salesman. Sometimes he had to leave his young family to go on short business trips. On several occasions and if we were on summer vacation, he would take us along, and he would make a working holiday out of it. We loved to stay in whatever motel or hotel he booked for us. It was on one of these little motel stays that I saw my first TV program in colour (I’m telling my age here, for sure). And of course we enjoyed the novelty of eating in different restaurants each night.

Most of the time though, Dad’s job only required him to be away from home from nine to five, Monday through Friday. One particular day, as he was getting home just before supper, he got out of his car and noticed my little sister playing outside with her friend. He heard her as she turned to her playmate and said in a proud but quiet tone, “That’s my father.”

That little memory always made my father smile when he shared it with someone. Seemingly an innocent and offhand remark made by the youngest of his three children, those three little words meant much more to him. I know it made him feel proud and happy to be that father, that figure of authority and loving protector of his family. It was a responsibility he took seriously, a role that only he could execute with his unique brand of friendship, understanding and humour.

We had our dad with us through all the joy and the turmoil of growing up, and for many years after. He stood by me twice as I married, giving me away to another man who professed his love. But when we lost him almost ten years ago to the devastating illness known as ALS, none of us were ready to say goodbye.

Today is his birthday. Happy Birthday, Dad. He would have been seventy-nine. It was my wish to let everyone who reads this blog today to know a little bit about him. He was a man I was proud of, and still am. Why?

Because “that’s my father”.

Further reading:
Daddy’s Guitar
You Never Left

The TV Commercial I Wish I Didn’t Love

Published on September 20, 2012January 25, 2018 by J. Kelland Perry6 Comments

In today’s age of high-definition PVR’s and the luxury of watching television on demand to fit into my schedule, I rarely watch commercials anymore, and that suits me fine. But there is one ad I have seen recently that I think I could watch every day.

I won’t reveal whose advertisement it is; let’s just say it is for a financial company sharing the benefits of a home renovation loan. In this particular case, the son in the ad has just renovated part of his home to make a self-contained apartment. We see the son showing his aging father around the apartment, who appears very impressed with what his son has done. The father touches the new kitchen cabinets and remarks that the apartment should fetch good rent.

It is then that the son reaches in a box bearing the financial company’s logo, and comes out with a set of keys. He then gives the keys to his dad, telling him for the first time, “The apartment is yours, Dad.”

Then follows his father’s reaction of surprise, and he reaches out and hugs his son.

I swear, my heart gives a little leap and a flop each time I see this ad. Of course, I know why; I lost my dad nine years ago to ALS, when he was 69. I never got to see my father anywhere near as elderly, and yet healthy, as the gentleman in the ad. My mother didn’t fare much better, being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease in her sixties, and now in the latter stages in a nursing home.

I didn’t write this post out of self-pity. I just wanted to impart to those of you who read this, the fortunate ones who still have a parent or parents who are loving, healthy and of sound mind, to treasure them. Please don’t take them for granted. You have something, and an opportunity that I will never know: the ability and the joy of giving back to those who brought you up and gave you their all.

For me, watching that commercial reminds me, and lets me dream – just for a few minutes – of what could have been.