Never Fear Grandpa Is Here

Adversity has the power to define a person and I have come to believe it has the ability to change a person. 

On my wedding night, my dad and I danced to “I Get A Kick out of You.” This pretty sums up our relationship—we find each other entertaining—but we take each other with a grain of salt.  It took years of therapy to repair my relationship with my father—I don’t know if he ever knew how fragmented it was or that therapy was what fixed it. 

For years, I thought my dad was a mean son of a bitch who didn’t care a whole about anything.  This could not be further from the truth.  My dad is not and was not a mean of son bitch but rather he is an angry son of bitch who is not very good at expressing any emotions other than anger in the form of rage.  And while for years, I thought my dad did not really care about anything the truth is he a man of passion and conviction—he is most passionate about his family.

I share the evolution of my impressions of my dad because it is important to recognize when someone’s grows into their true self. And I believe with my whole heart that my dad has grown into not only the man he was capable of being but the man he wants to be. Growing up my dad was known for his short-temper and extreme reactions.  He would yell so loud the neighbors turned up their televisions.  On the other hand I can remember more times than not we had family or friends living with us because they were having hard times, my dad was forever helping someone with this or that. He  also worked a physically demanding job for 40  years—sometimes he worked two jobs—working 20 hours a day and sleeping in his truck between jobs.  But as a teenager and young adult, I wasn’t able to see this—my impression of my dad was shadowed by his short and erratic temper and his narrow ability to accept any truth other than his own. 

My dad suffered a massive heart attack just before my 13^th birthday- 90% blockage for which he went through an emergency angioplasty.  After the heart attack, he stopped eating salt and switched to a filtered cigarette.  His tempter also calmed a bit but not enough for my liking.  Then in 1998 when he held Britney Nicole Wielgus for the first time, another layer of anger seemed to be stripped away.  And sadly, the biggest layer of anger left after we lost Brit.  When Brit entered first grade my dad retired and became Mr. Mom.  Brit was his everything.  Brit taught us all how to love, how to embrace life and how to dance like no was watching.  And maybe it was Brit who taught my dad that he needed to calm down—stop taking everything so seriously and realize that his temper was going to cost him the only things he truly cared about in life—those things that money cannot buy.

A couple of weeks ago, my dad (who I call Thelma) and I were talking on the phone. I shared with him the many frustrations of finding child care for the ladies (specifically Caroline this summer).  And without missing a beat, my 70 year old, hard of hearing, hard of sight, and barely mobile father said…I can come out and help. You and John need a break.  Now…you may be wondering why I would trust Caroline (aka the Energizer Bunny) with someone in my dad’s state well the answer is simple…they are good for each other.  My dad will sit and talk to Caroline all day long and when she decides to go squirell watching Thelma has no choice but to follow. Caroline gets constant care, attention, and verbal feedback—my dad gets a personal trainer.  In all seriousness, seeing my dad with Caroline shows me just how far he has come, his patience for her is never ending. When he looks at Caroline he only sees potential.  While I was hoping to find another Kristen for the summer—I am so happy that both of my ladies have had the opportunity to spend some extended time with Papa. 

This by the way is not the first time; Papa has stepped in to be our many.  He lived with us twice in Chicago (6 weeks and then 3 months) to help with the ladies.  I am so thankful and grateful for his willingness and desire to spend extended periods of time with the ladies. 

At the end of the day, I am thankful not only that my grumpy dad is able and willing to help with the ladies but that I am able to see my dad as the most amazing grandfather, the ladies could ever ask for. And maybe it was because he was such an angry son of bitch for so many years that I have such a great appreciation for the kinder, gentler, less riled Thelma.  Thanks Dad!!

Post Script:  Many people have inquired why I call my dad (John Wielgus) Thelma.  There is a scene in Sister Act, when Whoopi Goldberg pounds on the floor and says “Alma check your battery,” referring to Alma’s hearing aid battery. Funny part: for years I thought it was Thelma, so I started calling my dad Thelma because he is SO VERY hard of hearing and has been forever. Joke is on me, it was Alma—but he is still Thelma.