5 more minutes

I heard this song, its a country song, “5 more minutes.” Do you know it? I could listen to this all day. This is as true as it gets.

We had a much fun as we could with Al. He planned around his chemo days to get to baptisms, birthdays, and parades.

“With so much left to say I prayed, Lord I ain’t finished…just give us 5 more minutes.”–Song Lyrics

With 4 years and three months of knowing that Al could die at any time, I can’t say that I felt prepared. Even though Al took the time to talk with me and to go as far as to apologize for how hard he knew this would be for us.

What can I say about 25 years of time with Al as my father?

The first lesson I remember is that I used to be in a competitive dance class. I had a part with a high jump and my dance instructor saw that I had a large run in my tights. She was so mad, and yelled at me for “ruining it for everyone.” I’m not sure that was true, as we hadn’t won any of the other competitions the whole year, but it still hurt. I remember Al walking me around the building, waiting for me to calm down, and then he goes,

“Fuck ’em. Seriously, this doesn’t matter at all.” And he was right. We can’t let the judgements of others shape our lives.

The next thing I remember is wild rice soup at a Café in St. Michael. I failed a Geometry test and was directed to the nurses office on account of my panic breathing. Al came to pick me up and took me out to lunch.

“You know you have to go back after this. You’re not really sick.” And he was right. It’s important to get back up when we fall.

Al once through a boyfriend over his shoulder then said, “Ah, I’m just messing with ya.” Al taught me to drive, gave me away at my wedding, and became a Grandfather to my children. Al never asked us to call him Dad, even though he did all the things a father is supposed to do.

Al spoke well of my Dad, and assured me that somethings are not well explained.

Al learned about drugs the hard way long before I knew him. Al said, “Terra, you know all that stuff you like…running, the play, drawing…drugs make you not care about any of anything or anybody. You should skip it.” Drugs ruin lives, and I’m glad I listened to Al.

Al was a Grandfather. He held our babies and played with our kids. We had big family meals together. We watched movies, and ate treats. He was ordering Christmas presents for the kids a few days before he passed. He kept the cabin nice, so the grandkids could swim and run and watch fireworks.

It feels like he’s still here. I keep thinking, “Al’s not dead. I just talked to him. He wants me to pick up two guns. We’re coming to their house for Christmas and Al love Christmas.”

The last thing he said to me was, “I’ll have those guns ready for you.” Because he heard there were wild cats in the woods where my family and I moved to. He was always thinking of protecting us.

There was a time in my life where I felt sorry for myself. When I heard that Al had cancer my first thought was, “That’s not fair. I’m going to have two dead Dads.”

But now I think it’s true what my neighbor said…that I had two of the best Dads in the world.

I once read that “Gratitude is the first sign of a thinking, rational creature.” Its a quote from Solanus Casey.

I’m sad that Al’s gone. I want 5 more minutes. But I know that two great Dads is a blessing and I will be forever grateful.

Sincerely,

Terra Rose Knoble