More Farfar…
Most of my interactions with Farfar were centered on either having fun or being productive. The bulk of what I learned from him was practical. How to drive a nail, how to shingle a roof, how to field dress a deer, and things of that nature were the domain of Farfar.
Council was not his strong suit. Actually that’s not fair to say, I’m not sure if it was or not, it simply was not a big part of our interactions. However, based on one afternoon’s experience while hunting, it has occurred to me that in not having more deep and meaningful conversations with Farfar, I may have missed out on more than I realize.
I had returned early from the morning hunt and Farfar and I were working on setting up camp while my father stomped around in the woods. Dad was frequently out longer than I was… probably a big part of the reason he was the (much) more prolific hunter. I enjoyed hunting, but I also enjoyed getting back to camp and spending time with Farfar (and, let’s be honest, enjoying the fruits of his labor over the camp fire!).
One afternoon we were sitting in front of the fire and out of the blue he asked me who I was dating. I told him no one at the moment, but there was someone I had my eye on. He asked what I was waiting for, and I (honestly/foolishly?) responded that I didn’t think she would respond positively to my overture.
His reply, like so many of the things he said to me over the years, was short and to the point (I’m paraphrasing here, but it is very close)…
Remember this: rejection only hurts for a day or two, regret… is not so forgiving.
That single sentence changed my life from that day forward. Not as enabling, reckless and all encompassing as “it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than to get permissionâ€, it created a wonderful synergy between the “strike while the iron is hot†confidence of youth, and the “t’is better to have loved and lost…†knowledge that can only be gained from experience.
I became a better, more confident man on the mountain that day… although, I’m sure there are a decent number of women (if you have known me long enough, you can insert a “suit†joke here) who wish I had stayed out in the woods with my dad and missed that conversation altogether!! 
When I think of all the things I mightn’t have done over the years, without this one morsel of experience, I find myself once again overwhelmed with appreciation for a man who so simply and efficiently conducted the business of his life.
Thank you Farfar, I love you, and miss you terribly already…
There are no words that can accurately describe how incredible it was to read this story.
Thank you for sharing.
Comment by Devyl — November 20, 2008 @ 6:29 am
Where to begin?
First … keep writing ’til you’re blue in the face, Soren. That, and stop apologizing for it.
I have to tip my hat to you: I lost my father last year to cancer. We had a falling out when I was but in my early twenties and it lasted 25 years. I barely started reconnecting with him when he decided California was no longer for him and Florida was. When I found out near the end of 2007 he had cancer, I made a trip out to visit with him for a week plus. We buried the hatchet and moved on. There were tears, there was laughter, there was heartfelt statements that left us both in respect of the other. And, of course, there was the realization we’d both been stubborn asses beyond our capacities, but we somehow managed to find an extra reserve of snark and venom lying at the pits of our stomachs to lob at each other.
I made one more trip out to Florida a month later when I found he was finally going. I watched him pass. I held him. I prayed. I helped make arrangements. I told jokes during the eulogy.
My point is this: I tip my hat to you for the courage it takes to write about Farfar openly and publicly. I have yet to find that courage.
One day … one day.
Until then, I’m living vicariously through you.
Lastly, one thing my father imparted to me many, many times over the course of my life was his wisdom: “There will always be someone better than you out there in the world … and there’ll always be someone worse” There were many more like this. Farfar? He has a doozy with ” … rejection only hurts for a day or two, regret… is not so forgiving.” With your permission, I’d like to use that. And if you’ll grant the privilege to do so, I’ll give him credit each and every time. A brilliant legacy to pass down generation to generation, if I do say so. (Fathers have the tendency to do that. I look forward to catching an inkling of what my son and daughters remember me for.)
Keep it going, Soren. Fear not ……
It’s a pleasure. …………… Ruprecht
Comment by Ruprecht — November 20, 2008 @ 6:49 am
Wow, to follow up Rupe on this seems a daunting task – but I shall delve ahead and share my wonder at the wisdom that is all around us if we but look, listen, and apply it to our lives.
Thank you for sharing some most poignant, insightful, and life altering words with us today.
You do, indeed, have an incredible gift in your writing Soren. I give a rousing and vocal second to Rupe’s request for you to not stop!!
You, like Farfar, mix in some practical advice for us to use in our daily lives and every so often you offer us some pearls of wisdom that are there for us to pick up – little treasures beyond measure.
It is indeed a pleasure!
Comment by Kat — November 20, 2008 @ 4:15 pm
I love that you have som many wonderful things to write about Farfar. Stop apologizing! His words helped make you the kind, compassionate, wonderful man that you are and that deserves to be lauded!
(((HUGS)))
Comment by perpstu — November 20, 2008 @ 4:39 pm