Gifts of Love

It has been two weeks now that I have worked at the golf course. I have made no secrets of the fact that I am unhappy of having to work nor am I truly happy that I can't find a job within my field; that I have had to return to an industry that I had left 10+ years ago because of the burnout and difficulties of balancing a life that comes with it.

However, I must come clean now: while I am still not happy about working, I am starting to really look forward to going to work. Why? Because I am working at a facility that each day, I get given a gift of love. Love in the sense of friendship and long ago memories. Cranbrook is a hockey town and has been for eons and my dad carved himself a place in this town's heart almost 40 years ago. Back in the early 70's, he was one of the leaders in the hockey league that ran during that time. He was a popular player with the fans as well as one that had the skill to go along with it, having captured himself a few league MVP's. His death at the age of 36 while playing hockey, rocked not only the town that we had lived in at the time, but the entire hockey community that surrounds the area. Having lost my dad at the impressionable age of 13, I have this unquenching thirst to know about the man as a man. Growing up, I was blessed enough to be told the stories of how he loved his family as a father and that satisfied the need that I had at the time. But now that I am an adult, I find that I yearn to have about what my dad was like as a man. How others viewed him, and to my incredible luck, I have not been disappointed. Each day, I meet someone new that knew my dad and has a story to tell. Of course, they are all the good ones because it is not like anyone wants to speak ill will of the deceased, nor to the daughter of that person, but still, the stories and memories that are being shared are beautiful, inspiring and comforting. There is a genuine acceptance of me from these former hockey players, players wives, coaches, trainers, friends and fans that it is fun. These people upon seeing me, will tell the people that they happen to be golfing with who I am and then will go on to see how I am doing, how my family is doing (as in my Mom and sister), how my transition is going and then go on to tell me about my Dad. It feels as if I have gained a whole new family as these beautiful people share with me their lives and want to be a part of ours. In a weird sort of way, it feels kind of like coming home some days. Does that make any sense?