My Father, The Hero

The year was 2004. I had just gone through a painful break-up after a 4-year relationship. That’s not the funny moment, by the way. My ex had just vacated the house we were renting and left me with nothing – not in a vindicative-I’m-taking-all-your-shit kind of way – all of it was hers. From the furniture, to the cutlery, to the pots and pans, all the way down to the shower curtain. Everything.

I guess I must have paid for all of the non-tangible things in our relationship because when we parted ways, I was left with a mattress, a wiener dog, and a sense of hope lost. Well, I think my parents picked up on the hopelessness part upon speaking to me on the phone because my dear father was on the next plane out to Calgary to help scrape me off the floor. Clearly, drinking orange juice and listening to Dashboard Confessional albums all day was not going to get my life back in order. When he arrived he was all business – he was like one of those fixers from a mafia movie; but instead of cleaning up the messes of other people, he helped clean up the mess of my life. And for that I will always be grateful. But, as I mentioned, he was all business. There was no time for a pity party, it was tough love time. “Alright then, let’s get a move on.” And where else could you rebuild an entire lifestyle in a single day? Ikea, of course.

So we went to Ikea and we proceeded to fill up two shopping carts full of odds and ends plus a couple of trolleys filled with furniture. Now here comes the funny moment. By the time we made it to the kitchen section, the carts were literally brimming with stuff. Up to that point we had been rather selective in taking only the essentials (dishware, sheets, etc.). So we reached the cooking utensils and grabbed a few more necessities like pots, pans, knives, cutting boards, etc. And then my dad picked up one of those things that, as far as I’m concerned, have a singular purpose – to put icing on cakes. I’m not sure what you call it, but it looks like this:

pic4.1

Exhibit A: Cake icer.

Now, some would argue that the above image is a “spatula” but anyone with half a brain actually fulfills all spatula-related tasks (e.g., cooking eggs in a frying pan) with something that looks like this:

pic4.2

Exhibit B: An actual spatula.

And we already had one of those in the cart. Like I said, that first thing is only used for one task, icing cakes. I should also note that I have never baked a cake in my life. Not once. Nor have I ever had the need to put icing on anything. Not once. So my dad picked up one of these things, examined it carefully, declared, “You will need two of these,” picked up ANOTHER one, and threw them in the cart.

I nearly died laughing.

It was my most ridiculous display of public laughter ever. It lasted about 10 minutes with occasional attempts to explain what was so funny to my bewildered dad, “…why…would…I…need…TWO?…HAHAHA!” I couldn’t help but think about a wacky image of me standing in my kitchen surrounded by multiple un-iced cakes, several bowls of icing, and a single utensil, cursing the day I only bought ONE icer! I ended up on the floor of the store clutching my stomach because I was laughing so hard. I think it also might have been the first time I laughed since the break-up. And while my dad was not intentionally trying to be funny, it was much appreciated. It was a golden moment. That weekend really made me realize how lucky I am to have such great parents.

willbillcatamaran

Happy Fathers Day!

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