Golfing at Dusk

Last Sunday was one of those beautiful DC early spring days. All day my main goal was to go to the driving range. I wanted to go early in the afternoon when the temperature was in the mid-60s. But after helping a friend move then doing some much needed errands it was already 5:00. The weather was cooling and the sun began setting, but I was determined to go to the driving range. And I was thankful that I went when I did.
Almost everything reminds me of Dad. A lot of these things make me sad. Make me miss him. But occasionally I do something that gives me joy in my remembrance.  Maybe it was just that I was in a good mood all day, but my trip to the driving range on Sunday had more of a positive impact than I could imagine.
I got to the driving range at about 5:30 and bought a bucket of balls and a Budweiser. I started swinging and, as I do every time I pick up a golf club or a Budweiser, I started thinking about dad. Once I finished I went back to my car and that was where the memories really hit hard. It wasn't the golfing that brought most of them back, it was sitting on the back of my car, changing from golf shoes back to sneakers with the breeze rolling in and the sun setting behind me. Suddenly I felt like I was back at Ponkapog on a Friday night, changing shoes on the back of Dad's jeep, shooting the shit after another week of his league.  For some reason, this time, I didn't feel sad or miss him. I felt thankful that I got to experience so many summer nights with him. It was the whole experience with that league that I loved. Playing until they kicked us off the course, hanging out for a few drinks after that, and the drive home with just the two of us.
So many times I feel the negative effects of grief. This was one of the times that I felt the positives of life. I wish that I could experience more summer nights golfing with Dad, but I know that at the same time I need to take comfort in the joy we had and the bonds we shared.