​Love Feels Like Support, Smells Like Old Spice, and Looks Like My Dad by Pennie Hunt

I had chicken pox in 4th grade. When I showed my mom my itchy red bumps, she told me it was just a rash and to get ready for school.

As the day progressed, so did my itching. My teacher noticed my scratching and asked me what was wrong. One look at the red spots and she sent me to the nurse’s office, who immediately called my mom to come and pick me up. 

Yes, I had successfully exposed my class and the entire school to chicken pox. 
I remember the next few days, my mom went to work, and Dad stayed home with me. He tinkered in his shop, coming in occasionally to check on me as I lay on the couch, vacillating between sleeping, scratching, and drinking juice. He wanted to make sure I was ok.

Being a military man, my dad set the tone for a structured home life. As a child, there wasn't much sleeping in on weekends or hours spent in front of the TV watching cartoons. Our family got out of bed and started our chores. 

When it was time for fun, we had fun. We loved weekends at the lake. My dad built a wooden box that he perched on top of our Pontiac station wagon. It was filled with a tent, sleeping bags, and cooking supplies. I thought the box looked like a Halloween coffin and driving down the road I am sure we looked like a cross between a Chevy Chase movie and the Beverly Hillbillies. But our family of five, fishing poles, a few hot dogs, mom’s potato salad, and always a dog or two equaled fun!

As time went on and I had children of my own, I never lived far from my dad. He would occasionally stop at my house to have a cup of coffee, check on my little family, plan fishing trips with my kids, and make sure I was ok.

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Many years later after I found myself divorced and living alone far away from my dad, he would occasionally call to check on me. It was through these check-ins that he talked me through lighting a water heater, diagnosed what was causing a noise in my car, and made sure I was ok. 

During this time, I decided to go to school and get a college degree. Dad came to my graduation. To me, he was still young, but it was that day that I noticed him walking a little slower and looking older and frail. 

That was the beginning of the end of his life. 

In his last year, I made as many trips as I could to help my mom care for him. In between visits, I occasionally called to check on him. We talked about jazz music, if I was keeping up with my maintenance chores for my car and water heater, and what I was doing for fun. I wanted to know if he was ok.

It has been 20 years since I held my dad’s hand and said goodbye to him as he passed. But he still stops by occasionally to check on me. Some days, I smell his Old Spice Cologne, I hear him talk to me, or I feel him guiding me through a project or problem. 

And sometimes I listen to the recording I saved from his answering machine - you know, just to occasionally check in on him and make sure we are both ok. 

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                                                 Pennie’s Life Lesson:
                         Love is felt through consistent, caring support.
        Sometimes it just shows up, checks in, and makes sure you’re ok.
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