Beech Tree News Network

At the height of the conflict in Afghanistan, my nephew, Adam, was fighting insurgents along the Afghan/Pakistan border with the rest of the guys in the 10th Mountain division of the U.S. army.  They saw combat on a daily basis.  He made it back home—not all of them did—and went to work rebuilding his life.  He enrolled at the University of Louisville as an engineering major.  He met a girl—an occupational therapist—and they married last August.  My dad was at the wedding.  It would be the last time I would see Dad alive.  He was gone a little over a month later. 
    Dad didn’t stay for the wedding reception.  If he had stayed, he would have heard the guys in Adam’s unit describe his bravery in the face of danger, his loyalty as a friend, the way he was always a stand-up guy, someone who could be counted on to do the right thing.  If Dad had heard the words Adam’s friends said, maybe Dad would have changed his mind about Adam before he died.
    I loved my dad, but he wasn’t a very tolerant person, especially when it came to children.  Dad had his favorites among his children and grandchildren, and he made little effort to conceal his disapproval if you ever got on his bad side.  He told my sister, Rhonda (Adam’s mom), that Adam asked too many questions and he got on his nerves.  From the time he was a little boy, Adam knew he wasn’t welcomed in my Dad’s house, so he stayed away.  If you had ever felt the glare of my father’s disapproval, you would understand Adam’s decision.
    My stepmom asked Adam to be a pall bearer at Dad’s funeral, and Adam stepped up, like he has always stepped up, and did the right thing.  Adam showed up at my parents’ house for Christmas with his wife, Erica, and my stepmom made sure he felt welcomed.  He came back in the spring to help her put out a garden, something she and Dad did every year, up until the time he died.  Adam had never raised a garden, but he wanted to help, because he knew Dad wouldn’t be there to do so.
    Mom is 82, but she got out there and showed Adam where and when and how to plant corn,
green beans, tomatoes, squash and peppers.  Adam learned to run the tiller and lay off rows and when to add fertilizer.  They had the first green beans in the county and a bumper crop of corn and tomatoes.
My stepmom is really knowledgeable about growing things, and she is a good teacher.  She has gotten a lot more patient in her later years, but she was always a good teacher.  She enjoys being around people who want to learn how to do things.
    “I’ve learned so much, Mamaw,” Adam told her, “If I ever have my own place, I’ll be able to do this.”
    Dad never saw that Adam.  He could never get past the little boy who asked too many questions.  When I am around a person—kid or adult—who isn’t particularly easy to be around, I think of Adam, and I try to remember that the people we are right now isn’t necessarily who we’ll always be.  Sometimes, we just need the chance to prove we’ve grown, we’ve changed, we’ve had our questions answered and don’t feel the need to ask them anymore.