My Father's Slippers Chapter 1

My Father's Slippers (upcoming book on caring for aging parents in a mindful way)

by Jennifer Marshall

Chapter 1- Father’s day- June 19th

Holidays are the hardest, naturally. Especially Father's day.  I am sad, filled with emptiness, rather than memories.

There is good in my life, but it does not take away the hurt, the loss inside.  My father has died.  He is gone.  Life divides, the reality and the perception are separate.  It seems that I am the only one without a father.  The television stations have prepared hours of ‘fantasy’ fathers day show— Father Knows Best, Leave it to Beaver, and it seems even Dennis the Menace has a wonderful father.  The screen is filled with images of beautiful slim mothers, hair done up, adorned in ironed aprons waiting for father to come home to celebrate with the family.

In order to distract myself from my unending grief, I go to dance fitness class. Even there I am reminded of missing my father.  Our dance instructor’s father is visiting town and he is dancing along with the class, albeit rather clumsily, wearing a suit and tie much like the perfect fathers on tv today.  Our teacher is young, witty, and pokes fun at his father’s attempts to following his leads.  We dance swing steps, the Charleston, the waltz, and the mambo— my personal favorite, in time to music of all eras and generations, from 40’s music all the way to Lady Gaga’s Born this Way.  It is so much fun, and great cardio. I can see the wonderful connection my teacher has with his father. 

After class I return home, and the ecstatic feeling of dancing leaves me.

I am sad once again, alone in the house that he left me.  

I work idly on my computer but I can't seem to concentrate.  I head out to the garage to get some supplies in the closet and I see a pile of shoe boxes.  I take a stack in the house, happy in the moment, knowing that a good pair of shoes I have forgotten will undoubtedly make me feel better.  I open the first box and I am surprised to see my father’s slippers.  During the extensive sales of his possessions I had tucked them away for safekeeping.  

The slippers were his favorite— suede, well worn in brown leather, with soft laces.  My cat loved them so much we had to keep them in the closet at night so that she would not chew them up.  Yes, the cat, not the dog.  

I put them on, slowly, and walk around the house.  My spirit lifts.  I feel my father in my heart, as I paddle around the house in his slippers. My heart fills with joy.