Dad's Eyes

DAD'S EYES

Author's note: We were each literally dragging our feet on our writing assignment from the minister. He had given us the opportunity to talk at Dad's funeral or write our thoughts to have him incorporate into his speech, if we couldn't talk. We all opted for the second. But even then, we were dragging our feet collectively on this assignment. It seemed like to put down our memories in writing made the whole thing so much more real. Seemed to put a seal on his death. Dead is dead. No denying that. But to put our thoughts down in writing seemed to make it ever so much more real, and burning to each of our souls.

That night before the minister was supposed to come visit Mom in the morning, none of us had written anything yet. And then we each retreated to our own spots individually in separation and isolation, to try to gather our thoughts and put them in writing. It was a terribly long and lonely night for us all. When I talked to my oldest sister on the phone, she said she really couldn't bring herself to writing anything…it was just too hard. I said…I know. That's alright. Whatever. Told her if she had an idea of what she wanted to say, I could perhaps put it into words on paper for her. So, she mentioned to me (only reminding…for I had already thought of it myself as well…it was such a common thread for each of us in our relationships with Dad) about the memory of his eyes. The look he would give us. We called it the 'beady-eyed-look'. Read on the essay to learn more. I wrote it, but it was my sister's idea. So, we both participated on this one. She ended up writing down her own thoughts…things that literally brought tears to my eyes as well. But this essay was a joint effort by her and me.


DAD'S BEADY EYES


Although Dad was most generally easy-going, and often even kept much of his emotions to himself, still we kids could often read him quite easily and with much accuracy.

One thing very common to all four of us was that we could tell when Dad was angry or upset with us, even if he did not scold us.

We affectionately called it the 'beady-eyed' look.

When he became angry, his eyes, particularly the 'eye balls' would constrict to a very small bead-like size in the center of the white. And the color of those eye-centers would turn the deepest black, in sharp contrast to the surrounding white.

Hence our term 'beady-black-eyes'.

More often than not, he would refrain from further scolding. A simple look from him with those eyes was enough to tell us we had done something wrong.

-Connie Cook & Samira Van Fossen