My father, my son

My coffee maker died this week. It had been taking longer and longer to brew a pot of coffee, making all kinds of noises. It was pretty old, I used it a lot. I knew it was on its last legs. I know it is rather silly to have an attachment to an appliance, but I am a little sad.

You see, it was a gift from my father. It was probably the best material gift he ever gave to me. My father was an engineer, that might not mean much to most of you. To me that meant he was practical and rather clueless at times. He never knew what would be a good gift for someone. When I was still living in my parent's home, I usually helped him choose gifts for my mother. After years of marriage, he still never knew what she liked or might need. He was a generous man, he did not skimp on money or time spent on a gift. He just didn't know.

When he bought the coffee maker for me, I was a single mom, working two jobs. I had a coffee maker that worked perfectly well. He bought it anyway and told me he got it because it had a timer. He said I could set the timer and coffee would be ready when I got up. At the time I thought I would have rather had something I really needed. But after using it for awhile, I appreciated the feature and the thought. That coffee maker lasted over ten years, I used it almost everyday. It made me think of my father every time I used it.

A few Christmases ago, my son bought me a coffee maker. It was a two cup (large travel mug type cups) coffee maker. It dispenses into the accompanying cups. Again, I already had a functioning coffee maker. He told me that he thought it was better, because I could make two cups, one to drink as I was getting ready for work, and one to take with me. At first I didn't use it much, but I have been using it more and more. It doesn't have a timer, but it brews quickly and makes good coffee. I appreciate it and his thoughtfulness.

This week, when I was a bit sad that my coffee maker broke, I thought about the similarities between my son and my father. My son, like his grandfather, is a hard worker, he is compassionate and empathetic. He is hard on himself and expects a lot from himself and other people. They both love dogs and hate to see anyone hurting or down on their luck. They were always close, my son and my father. My father doted on him and my son returned the affection. The other grandchildren in the family (including my other son) did not appreciate their grandfather. They found him to be judgmental and a bit socially inept. He was those things, but he was much more. My youngest son found acceptance, love and a strong male figure in him. He went out of his way to thank him and please him. He enjoyed doing things with and for his grandfather. Their relationship made the other grandchildren jealous. They did not understand his favored status, but they also did not want to spend time with their grandfather. I knew, in part, that my father was trying to fill a void that was left by R's father. I also knew he enjoyed the time they spent.

I will still think of my father when I make coffee. I will think of my father and my son and the special relationship they shared. I will think about their thoughtfulness in the wonderful gifts they gave me, both the coffee makers and the non-material things I have received from them.