Unanswered Questions

My father called me Podso. I never knew why. When I was a child I had this idea it was an Indian (aka Native American) name. I don't remember ever wondering enough to ask him where the name came from, but I remember rather liking the idea that Podso was his special name just for me. He rarely called me that as an adult, and now the "why Podso" is included in a growing list of "I wish I had asked Daddy that...."

I guess as children we don't wonder about those kind of things like we do when we become older adults. The excitement of growing up, buying a home, having a career, raising kids suddenly slows down as you settle in life. Then time to think arrives and you wonder.....

My father very gradually lost his short term memory. His long term memory stayed pretty sharp, but his ability to speak full sentences gradually diminished, so that eventually we had guessing games when we asked him questions. His main reply towards the end of his life was a gaze intently into our eyes, telling us he had the answer, and most likely wishing so much he could share it. "Search deeply in my eyes and you'll get the answer."

The questions we ask unlock more about who we are. Or the why of who we are. As we grow older, albeit content to be who we've turned out to be, we still like to put puzzle pieces together.