Today is my father's birthday. Stuart Maupin Weedon was born to Chancellor Barbour Weedon and Bessie James Maupin Weedon on this day in 1920. He served his country in the army in World War II. He married Mildred Hume Mastin at an army base in Wisconsin. Their union brought forth five children, of which I was the very last (when he was already 40 years old). He had one brother, Edgar Jackson Weedon, and he is still alive. He died when I was 19, back in January of 1980. Most of my life, then, I've been without my father. He was not one for book learning - I think he had an innate suspicion of something that he just didn't get. But he never tried to squeeze his children into any pre-conceived molds. He saw that I was made for books and not baseball and that never seemed to bother him one bit. I think he would do anything I asked of him if it were in his power. I still remember two shocking occasions from my youth. First, I asked him to buy me a piano. And he did. I asked for it Friday, I think, an we bought it on Saturday. That and the lessons that went with it were the greatest gifts that I've ever received from anyone. Music became the very joy of my life. Second, I remember mentioning to him that we needed new living room furniture (ours was looking rather ratty having gone through all five of us kids!), and he took me out and let me select the living room furniture - and and the carpet! My mother just laughed. At least she liked the choices I made.
He and mom never spoke when we rode in the car. So as a teen I gave up the constant chatter and learned to just ride along in silence. What did he think about all the time? I'll never know, I don't suppose.
He was diagnosed with brain cancer in August and was dead four months later. It was the fall and winter from hell around our house. And yet I treasure the memories of all the family being together. He wanted to see snow before he died, and it began snowing that day. Snow still reminds me of that morning. I even remember what I was playing on the piano when Joe (himself dead now for over 20 years) called me to come in and say goodbye - I'd just learned Bach's two-part inventions #14 and #2. In a room of silence except for weeping we said goodbye. He died at home in his own bed, surrounded by his wife and five children.
Happy birthday, daddy! I love you.
Thank God for our fathers!
ReplyDeleteA blessed Christmas yours, and mine, are enjoying singing the praises of the One who entered our darkness to bring us the light of eternal day.
Fr. Weedon,
ReplyDeleteAs someone who has also lost his father, I know what you mean. My father died on february 28,2005 and it gets real hard this time of year. He worked hard but he loved to go all out on Christmas and put of all sorts of decorations. I take great comfort in knowing that he with your dad are around the throne of the Lamb.
Fr. Matthew Uttenreither
Some parallels here -- my dad was 41 when I was born, though he made it to 91 when he died in 2001 and I was 50. I hold the family record though, being 46 and 47 when my kids were born.
ReplyDeleteIn my living room is the Steinway Professional model he bought in the mid 60s to advance my interest in music. It cost a whopping 3k in those days; a new one is now about 20k, which is about what 3k was then. The two-part Inventions have been played on it along with a lot else of Bach, although I myself haven't played for years now.
He too did not try to force his kid to be the same person he was. But in one sense, not career paths or whatever, I would like to be exactly as he was. His dad threw switches for the railroad, and dad started working in the local drug store to help during the Depression. This led to being a pharmacist, a PhD in pharmacology, an MD, and finally a specialist in nuclear medicine, which had taken over a lot of diagnostics from pharmacology. Twice I went with him to sessions at the Oak Ridge Institute for Nuclear Studies. At that time there was some tension between the PhDs who considered the MDs glorified technicians and not really scientists and the MDs who considered the PhDs ivory tower types with no idea what to do. One time at the pool where we were staying, an MD sauntered over and asked So which are you, MD or PhD, and Dad, who had no truck with pretension whatever, just flatly said Both and dove in the pool to end the conversation.
I think I learned more from that than all the presentations on nuclear physics. Isn't it great to know that death is not what it seems on this side of things, and that we still in the church militant remain one with those in the church triumphant as we all move toward the Second Coming to which Advent points along with the First!
Your dad was four months younger than mine. Mine is still here, bodily.
ReplyDeleteGod rest his soul.
love,
Anastasia
Very moving, Fr. Weedon. Thanks for sharing those moments with us.
ReplyDeleteWhenever I think of your dad's passing I think of the snow. It was such a peaceful, quiet day.
ReplyDeleteI did not realize he died so close to his birthday.
Memory Eternal.
And yet I treasure the memories of all the family being together.
ReplyDeleteWhat a blessing. As you await your reunion in the Kingdom that never ends, may his memory sustain you.