ANDRE BEGIN

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about my father and the great memories we shared over our relatively limited time together.

One of my favourites is our father-son lunches after my parents separated and I went to live with my mom. By that point, I was well into my teen years and had already started my first part-time job at a neighborhood pharmacy.

Our first father-son lunch

One day, my dad dropped by the store after running his Saturday morning errands, to say hello and to ask me out for lunch. I knew that my bologna sandwich and carrot sticks in the fridge could be kept until the next day. Naturally, I accepted.

We decided to go to a casual roadhouse-style restaurant five minutes up the road where we knew the food was quite good and that service was as prompt as my dad and the apple that didn’t fall far from the tree.

My memory is a little foggy on what we discussed specifically. However, I do remember that the flow of the conversation was dramatically different from the ones we had while living under the same roof.

What changed?

Up to that point, there wasn’t much need for small talk. Our daily routines didn’t need much elaboration. It really wasn’t his style anyway. But in the new normal of living apart, small talk was to become an inevitable appetizer to our catch-up sessions.

I quickly came to appreciate how this one-on-one time with my dad was something special. It was just the two of us sitting across the table from each other, making casual conversation, whereas our previous exchanges tended to be on more practical matters such as lawn care in summer, raking leaves in fall and shoveling the laneway in winter.

To have his attention entirely focused on me and asking more probing questions than the mundane short-hand language more commonly shared among roommates was a pure delight.

A new tradition going forward

When the hour was nearly over, he paid the bill and drove me back to the pharmacy. As he pulled up to the door, he asked, “Are you working next Saturday? Would you like to do this again?”

I recall replying enthusiastically, “Definitely! Let’s do it again” which set the wheels in motion for a standing lunch date every Saturday.

In the months that followed, we launched into topics that enabled us to open up a little more, in ways we might not have done previously. In asking me how specific classes were going and what music I was enjoying, it felt like a wall that I wasn’t even aware was there had fallen. Similarly, I felt like I was getting to know the man who was sometimes an enigma to me.

Also, the fact that we were both dating then and could swap stories about it, was a unique experience that few fathers and sons can say they went through together.

What made this time even more special was that he was far more relaxed as our Saturday lunches were not taking place after a stressful workday. Perhaps all of these factors contributed to a feeling like we were speaking more like equals, less like father and son.

I don’t know who got more out of those lunch get-togethers, Dad or me. Through these weekly chats, Dad could see me and stay on top of my progress through school. Meanwhile, I could get to know my father in a way that limited time and distance may have nudged us into topics we might not have otherwise discussed. My lunch breaks from the pharmacy were truly a gift of time for both of us.

The resulting change in our relationship

There was something about being in a casual restaurant, just shooting the breeze, that changed the dynamic of our conversations and our relationship.

It’s strange how with the change of venue, away from home, I felt a greater sense of freedom in being able to open up to him about some of the teenage angst I was feeling, my indecision about my path in life and the pressure I put on myself about decisions to last a lifetime.

It was his opportunity to share his thoughts, his wisdom and his suggestions without the same intensity as might have been the case while living under the same roof. This new dimension to our relationship was not only refreshing but I truly felt seen and heard at an important point in my life.

During our many lunches together, I found myself getting better acquainted with the man I knew as Dad, whom I didn’t really know all that well given the formality that came with our father-son relationship, a role which I know he truly took to heart.

The end of an era

Three years later, as I started university, I found part-time work closer to campus, which made my standing engagement with Dad more of a challenge.

We still tried to meet halfway to get together for more quality father-son time, but my irregular schedule put a dent in the routine. By that point, we were both on our way with new relationships and I was embarking on a new phase of life.

As much as it was sad that those regular father-son lunches came to an end, their purpose had been served as the change in trajectory in our relationship had pretty much been carved in stone.

The epiphany

Up until that point in life, I had already experienced and accepted the temporary nature of certain relationships in our lives, whether friends, neighbours or teachers. What I hadn’t experienced was how an existing relationship could transform so dramatically into one that not only surprised me but surpassed my expectations.

As a child, I was brought up to respect, revere and listen to my elders, including my father. As a young adult, our relationship took on a new dimension, a less formal one, allowing us to speak more candidly at a time when his presence was more important than ever. For that, I will be forever grateful.

I look back on our father-son lunches with great fondness as our get-togethers were not just under the dynamic of father and son, they were more like two pals getting together.

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Sincere thanks for reading!
Have a great day,
André