Forgive Me Father

dadAll week, CBC Radio has been running a segment on superhero fathers and listeners have been calling in with their moving stories. Many of my Dad superhero stories include my Wonder Woman mother right alongside him. But, when I was in Victoria recently, a few father-specific moving moments flooded into my mind. And by moving, I mean the furniture kind.

My Dad took me down to Victoria for my first year of university. We arrived two weeks early so I could do an orientation program and the campus was a ghost town. Once we’d moved all my boxes in and I was all settled, it was time for Dad to head out. But when he looked at me sitting there, so alone and forlorn in my cell-like residence room, he said, “Hey let’s go out for dinner, I’ll catch a later ferry.” My Dad was usually on a pretty tight schedule (a trait I inherited), so this was a very welcome surprise. He took me for a steak sandwich (pre-veg days) at the Red Lion Inn. I’ll never forget it. I was so happy to have a little more time with him.

Dad returned to help me move out of residence at the end of that year. My brothers were with him. At a certain point, Dad decided we needed to speed up the process if we were going to catch the 3 pm ferry. He instructed my brothers to start throwing my stuff out of the third floor window into the waiting truck below. Needless to say I was not impressed with this moving method.

Then in my final year at UVic, I was offered a scholarship to attend university in Quebec. It all happened at the last minute, so I didn’t have much time to pack up my place. Or rather, I decided to party my last two weeks in Victoria, rather than pack. After I left for Quebec, Dad had to come all the way from the Okanagan to pack up what was left there and put it into the storage locker I had rented. Trouble was, I’d barely started. He walked into a huge mess and he was on his own this time.

The biggest issue was my giant couch. It had belonged to a friend of mine originally and I had been coveting it for years; he finally broke down and sold it to me. Dad knew I was attached to it, but he couldn’t get it into his pick up truck which had a canopy on it. I’m not sure how he even got it out of my apartment. (It was the ground floor this time so he didn’t have the option to shove it out the window.) He tried every possible maneuver, but he couldn’t get the couch into the truck. So what did he do? Cut the couch in half? Nope, he cut the truck canopy instead. When the couch still wouldn’t fit, he cut some more of the canopy. When that didn’t work, he was finally forced to sell the couch. I don’t remember how he managed that super hero feat while standing out in the back parking lot in pre-cell phone era.3guys

It took me quite some time to forgive my Dad for selling that old couch. Back then, I never even considered the sacrifice he had made. Thankfully, unlike me, Dad didn’t hold a grudge.

Those are just two of the many “moving with Dad” stories that have become legend in my family. Thanks for all the moving moments, Dad, furniture and otherwise. Happy Father’s Day!

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