Yes, yes, one and all, it is that blessed time of year again. Winnipeg has turned green and warm and beautiful. It's been a full year since I returned to Winnipeg to shift careers. It's Manitoba Marathon season. Those of you who know me at all will know that I am planning to run the 1/2 Marathon event tomorrow for the second time. Those of you who know me well will also know why it is that I am running this event.
It isn't because I love running for its own sake, that's for sure. Running is difficult for me. I'm not fast, I find it exhausting, and there are many days when I would rather have a root canal than put on my shoes and run out the door. If I didn't have a serious reason to be motivated, I can guarantee you that I wouldn't be doing it. So what is the reason, both for you that know and for you that don't know? I run in memory of my Dad, Joe Janiski. It's been four years today since he lost his life to cancer at age 51, and I'm writing this afternoon to let you know a little bit about him through a lesson I've been learning from him, my Mom, and all around me in life.
So.
This story starts for me at or around age 5. I was dealing with some sort of trivial disappointment, maybe a lost game. My Mom said to me: "You must accustom yourself to the hardships of life. It builds character. If you never experience the pain of being sad, you will never fully appreciate the beauty of happiness." I certainly didn't understand that at the time. I have heard those words in several permutations over the years, but as I mature, I am realizing again and again just how true they are.
So.
This story is about to take a turn to the sadder and more painful side of town, but it's ok. We must accustom ourselves... Character... Happiness.
My Dad's name was Joe. This day, this time, 4 years ago I visited with him for the last time, in person at least. He was in rough shape. A once fit and very strong man, he could no longer see, put a spoon to his mouth, or form speech because cancer had degraded his energy so severely. It had been about two years since he had found out about his illness, and about two months since he had found out that it was actually killing him.
My Dad had it tough. I don't know of anybody that had it worse than him growing up. The details do not matter for this story, but most of us will never live through what he lived through. If anybody had a reason to be mad at the world, or mistrusting of other people, it was him. But he wasn't like that at all. In fact, all of my memories of him laughing, smiling, or being happy are some of the purest expressions of true happiness in the moment that I have ever seen. He delighted in simple things, like good food, being outside on a beautiful day, a really good piece of candy, a well performed card trick, or just being in the same room with me. I remember vividly as an angry twelve-year-old that this would irritate me, as if he was too happy for something so trivial. What did I know about character? Nothing. No. Thing.
When he was sick, my Dad joked with the nurses and laughed about silly things, even when I was sitting there angry and depressed about the situation. Don't get me wrong, he had bad days. He definitely had days where he was upset about what was happening to him. But what strikes me today is the contrast between that and the lighter moments that we had during those weeks, and how he lived his life in contrast between sadness and happiness. Whatever his emotions were, he experienced them fully. He never articulated this to me verbally, and I don't think that he really thought about it all that much. Any lessons that I've taken from him have been through example and demonstration, rather than explanation.
Over the last year, I have experienced a lot of strong emotions regarding the many changes that have occurred in my life. I am trying to take a lesson from my Mom and Dad, to experience the sensations of life for what they are, as both pain and joy are are strong indications that something important has happened and I'd better pay attention and live it while it takes place. These days, new and exciting experiences are happening for me, and I'm very happy about this. When I think about where I was a year ago, four years ago, I'm very excited about now. Thank you for that, Dad.
What strikes me today is the contrast between the sadness of losing somebody and the happiness you can feel from realizing that they are still teaching you. Whether you believe in something after this life or not (I do), the simple fact that we can continue to learn from people who aren't here in this life anymore is incredible. A literal afterlife. I think that lessons like this, learned through the experience of happiness and sadness are the foundation of character. My Dad had a lot of that, character. I hope that it lives in me. Happy Father's Day.
'He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own proves the width of my own.'
-Walt Whitman, 'Song of Myself'
