Mike Paschall . com

A couple of days ago, I made the call I had promised myself I would make one year later.  The only reason I remembered was because I put it on my iCal.  Sometimes it does pay to do clerical due diligence.The call originated out of a discussion I had with “Awesome Man.” 

Patti and I, Michael and Kathy, the Awesome Man and his Awesome Daughter were having a beer and a bite before we caught our flight home.  The day before, Awesome Daughter and Awesome Man had lain to rest the beloved mother and faithful wife of 35-plus years.  Her long battle with cancer had finally subsided and her new life began.  We were there to support, love, and care with the other thousands of friends and family.

I knew I wanted to ask the question before Awesome Man sat down.  I had spent the better part of the previous evening (after the funeral) watching his interactions with his girls.  When I say girls, I mean GIRLS.  To say that Awesome Man had lived in a sea of estrogen is an understatement.

His Joy gave him 3 gorgeous daughters, but she also surrounded herself with some of the strongest women who have ever walked the planet.  Sisters, aunts, and bold friends – all more than qualified to sit at the table on The View – weigh in on this family like velvet steamrollers.  Opinions and suggestions fall like the icy waters of Niagara.

Awesome Man had to bring his “A” game every damn day!  I’m thinking, one mistake and he’s nothing more than a greasy spot on the street!

I liked him instantly.  Classy, smart, and driven – a low-handicap golfer who appreciates good whiskey in a proper glass.  Serious, but inwardly chilled.  It all made perfect sense now. 

Awesome Daughter must have inherited those tiny feet and hands from him.  He was the reason she was so comfortably secure in all her drama and audacious silliness, but at the same time carries so much favor and beloved charm. It almost doesn’t seem fair that one person (or people like her) can carry so much irresistibility and predisposed talent to build and enhance whatever they touch.

I watched a very tired Awesome Man try to be present, but the wheels were already turning for what was ahead.  I surmised that there were some hard days ahead, but you’d rarely see him wear it.  This sucker was a stud, and little would affect his character or demeanor.  Let me say it once more:  I liked him instantly.

It was risky – and I didn’t want to be calloused or presumptuous – but I took a chance anyway.  Just as he bit into the sandwich he’d ordered, I asked, “Awesome Man (except I called him by his real name), I’m sitting here with my wife.  Michael is sitting there with his wife.  Knowing what you know today, and having gone through what you’ve just gone through, what advice would you give two men who still have their wives?  How can we love them better?”

He chewed a couple more seconds, swallowed, took a swig from his glass and simply said,

“Don’t miss anything… especially the small stuff.  Notice the little things that she does.  Laugh when it’s silly, pay attention when she’s sad, but don’t ignore her.  See her.  Really see her.”

There was a lump in my throat.  I didn’t want tears at this table.  Not today.  Not now.  So, I grabbed Patti’s hand under the table and squeezed.  I just wanted to be home, and alone, so I could tell and show her how much I love her.

“Awesome Man,” I asked, “Is it ok that I call you back in a year to see what you might have to say about what I’ve just asked you?”  “Of course,” he said, “I’m up for it.”

That was it.  We hugged Awesome Man, kissed Awesome Daughter, and headed to the airport. 

I don’t remember there being a lot of conversation in the car.  We were all thinking.  Processing.  Readjusting.

So, today is the anniversary of that day.  A casual call to Awesome Man a couple days ago found him wheeling through a Krispe Kreme to pick up a batch of fried dough for some friends’ needed consumption.  We talked as he waited in the drive-thru line.  He wanted the low-down on all my “stuff” and, as usual, he wanted to know what state Ms. Patti could be found in today: Georgia, Colorado, or Texas?  The drive-thru line was stalled, so I went there.

“Awesome Man, do you remember the question I asked you at that table last year?”  He remembered.  “The part about how to love my wife better?  Well, it’s been a year.  How do you answer that today?”

There was no hesitation.  It was as if he’d been thinking about a response for a while.  Then it dawned on me that he has had some alone time.  Probably way more than he cared for.

“Yeah… two things. 

Don’t sweat the small stuff.  What I mean by that is, don’t get crossways with her regarding things that aren’t really that important.  You’ve got enough big things to struggle against together.  Let that small stuff remain small.”

Yeah, that’s good.  I remembered that he had used the word “small” when I originally asked him this question.  But this time it charted a new tributary.

Then the intensity changed.  He said,

“Touch her.  Pull her to you.  Grab her hand.  Touch her hair.  Rub her shoulders.  Don’t paw her because you want something from her.  Enjoy the fact that she is right there within your reach.  Smell her hair.  Notice her lines.  Touch her because you can.  That is what I miss.  That is the stuff that keeps me awake at night.  I miss touching and talking to my friend.”

This second part was more solemn and serious.  What he told me had been marinated in an unresolved ache.  I knew that God was talking through Awesome Man to me.  I was wearing a new batch of tears to confirm it.

A few hours after that call, I shared this story with a younger buddy of mine who is also married to a lovely lady.  He’s a man’s man, through and through.  His response was accurate:  “Wow, that’s serious stuff right there!”

It is serious stuff. 

I married very young.  It took a long time (too long) for me to grow up.  In today’s relevant vernacular, I was a classic douche bag.  But I have tried to put away childish things over our 35 years together, and I still want to be serious about Awesome Man’s counsel.  More importantly, I would like to think that my Awesome Girl knows just how serious I am about this.

I don’t want to just show up for the big stuff.  Anybody can do that.  Anybody can be a hero with the big shit. 

Buying someone crap doesn’t forge love.  Being a sugar daddy don’t make you daddy. 

People of depth see through that nonsense in a millisecond.  If that’s the best you’ve got, you’re so hosed.

What about the daily need, the daily desire, or the everyday love that touches and tells when no one else is looking?  That is what matters.  And that is what I think Awesome Man was pointing to.

I believe there is a lesson to be learned here for every one of us.  Awesome Man’s counsel is relevant to all of our meaningful relationships.

There is no excuse for not paying attention to the PEOPLE who are most important in our lives. We have too many excuses for our isolation.  It’s just not necessary.

Guys, stop bringing your heartless body to the house!  Stop trying to fix your communicative retardation with trinkets and flowers.  Show some consideration and interest in what she’s got going on.

The instruction is, “as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her” (Ephesians 5:25).  As my buddy said, it’s serious.  Jesus wasn’t much of a taker.  He didn’t play games with people so he could have what he wanted.  He came to serve.

Thanks Awesome Man.

I heard you.

-MDP-