You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Every morning when my dad’s alarm went off on his iPhone, he was awakened by The Rolling Stones singing one of his all time favorite songs, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” I grew up loving that song and the movie The Big Chill (which has the most incredible soundtrack), because Dad introduced me to both. I can say that about so very many awesome artists/performers and their creations, especially of the musical variety.

Tomorrow is my Dad’s 81st birthday.

Somehow, I won’t get to talk with or sing to him in honor of his special day.

It is one of many firsts that I continue to navigate, with a heavy heart, since he died unexpectedly last year on July 1st.

Six months later it all still feels so surreal, which is magnified by the disorientation that goes along with being almost two years into a global pandemic, as well as our family preparing to move back to my hometown of Evanston in about six weeks.

I am incredibly grateful to also be approaching my six month anniversary, on February 2nd, of my return to the traditional workforce at Northwestern University (NU). Not that I necessary wanted or needed to be distracted from my grief since Dad died, however I do think that having my new job at NU to focus on, gave me a healthy outlet and something to be excited about often. My commute to and from Evanston, which usually takes me between two and three hours round trip, has also proved to be very therapeutic (as I love listening to music, meaningful audiobooks and podcasts).

That said, working full time outside our home again, looking for our next house, getting ready to sell our current one, and now packing, not to mention parenting an 18 year old (who is applying to college) and a 12 year old (who also takes dance classes in Evanston five days a week) hasn’t left me with much time to write and process my experience, since Dad died, here on my blog, which I have missed being able to do.

I knew that I wanted to pay tribute to my dad in some way this week, in honor of his birthday. I also realized that I wasn’t looking to set a precedent that I would do so in the same way every year going forward (on or around January 20th), as well as on the anniversary of when he died in July. As it is, I manage to prioritize writing and sharing annual birthday letters for our two living children and our baby who left this world too soon here. However, in effort to not become more of a victim to the rules I live by, I am going to wing this as the spirit moves me.

So in honor of Dad’s 81st birthday, I’ve decided to share two related and very special stories that took place since he died. One happened earlier today (on the eve of his birthday) and the other on Abigail’s 12th Birthday in September.

Quick sidenote: Sean and Abigail both currently prefer they/them pronouns and Abigail is trying on the second half of their first name, “Gail,” as a nickname.

Close to the time Dad died, he had been strongly encouraged to stay home and eat a heart healthy diet, in preparation for the Transcatheter Aortic Valve Replacement (TAVR) procedure that was scheduled for late July. The Mayo Clinic’s website describes TAVR as “a minimally invasive procedure to replace a narrowed aortic valve that fails to open properly (aortic valve stenosis).” TAVR had the potential significantly improve the quality of Dad’s life, including his energy level. The staying home part was both because of the risks of COVID (even though he was fully vaccinated, he also had underlying conditions and was 80 years old) and due to how hard his heart was working to continue to function. His doctors wanted him to take it easy, so that hopefully he would make it to an angiogram (scheduled for the morning after he died) and eventually the TAVR procedure, which sadly he did not. 

Though Dad knew what he was supposed to be doing, that didn’t stop him from wanting to do one of the things he enjoyed most, going out to eat at restaurants. He would (understandably) get frustrated with us when we were not willing to take him where he wanted to go, especially since he’d retired from driving not long after he turned 80. The first time Bob, Sean, Gail and I ate outside together at a restaurant, since the pandemic began and we stopped eating at restaurants (though we tried to support our local favorites by ordering carry out and/or delivery), was at one of our favorites (and Dad’s) in Evanston, called Firehouse Grill. Dad was jealous.

I’d always figured that at some point after Dad’s TAVR surgery, that we could take him there, when it would hopefully be safer, both because he would’ve had the procedure and I’d imagined COVID would’ve moved on (I didn’t account for variants). Though it is definitely bittersweet that we didn’t get to take Dad out to one of his favorite restaurants for a yummy dinner one last time, we did gather on Memorial Day outside, in our backyard for a BBQ, at our house on Oakley here in Beverly, with our Axe family and had grilled steaks (per Dad’s request). We also made s’mores around a campfire (albeit a gas fire pit) and reminisced/shared stories from when Meg and I were younger. That get together turned out to be the last time all 10 of us were together in person.

On September 17th, Gail’s 12th Birthday, they had a dance class in Evanston, so we made a plan to pick up my Mom to join us for dinner at Firehouse Grill after their class, to celebrate both Gail’s 12th and Mom/Grandma Jacquie’s upcoming (less than a week later) 79th Birthdays. It was a beautiful and relatively warm day and it never even occurred to us to check the weather forecast. As dinnertime approached, so did clouds of consequence and we started to realize eating out on the patio that night might not be a given. Gail wasn’t eligible to get vaccinated until that day and with my mom having underlying conditions, in an abundance of caution, we didn’t feel comfortable eating inside.

We made it to Firehouse Grill in time to be seated on the patio (we had a reservation) before it began to rain, which soon turned into a storm. Many others on the patio moved inside for dinner, but we chose to wait it out in our car, with masks on (again, to be extra cautious for Gail and my mom). Gail opened some of their birthday gifts, as we hoped the inclement weather would blow over. Periodically I checked in with the manager to find out if/when he might reopen the patio.

The storm did clear for a bit and the manager, after hearing my sob story, agreed to let us return to try again to have Gail and Mom’s birthday dinner/celebration there. At that point it was just us left, who were interested in eating outside. One of the servers kindly started wiping down the table and chairs where we’d been seated previously and they brought us drinks. That’s when we noticed what song happened to be playing in the background over the speakers on the patio…

You Can’t Always Get What You Want

It definitely felt like a sign, not to mention a joke, from Dad and we couldn’t stop laughing and crying some too! I ended up capturing a bit on video, as I wanted to remember what it felt like, as well as to know that we hadn’t imagined the whole thing.

Fast forward to today, when I went to the cemetery where Dad is buried to visit and decorate his grave, during my lunch break from work. I originally thought I might make it there tomorrow, even though I am working remotely, as I often drive Gail to dance class, but our family’s schedule changed and when I realized I wouldn’t need to drive them, I decided to fit it in this afternoon. It was really cold and things didn’t go quite as planned, especially with the ground being frozen. So I had to improvise by putting things in the Christmas wreath (which my Mom and sister Meg’s family had gotten to decorate Dad’s grave during the holiday season), as well as in the snow.

On my way back to work, I chose a route that would lead me past the house we are buying/moving to in Evanston in early March. I was taking in what will be our new neighborhood, including a mix of more and less familiar homes (since I grew up not too far from there), and noticed one in particular. I’d realized that our new house is located just a few blocks east of one that I’d spent a lot of time hanging out at when I was in high school, as one of the leaders of the youth group that I was active in (called T.U.X.I.S.) lived there. We built a float every summer for the Evanston 4th of July parade and worked on it at their home.

At one moment I glanced back at that house, to see how far it was from our new home, and then as I turned my head forward, I somehow managed to catch my finger on the necklace I was wearing and it snapped/the chain broke. I was stunned, as the necklace is a very special gift that some of my dear college friends/Alpha Phi sorority sisters sent me after Dad died in July, with a real Forget-me-not flower inside of the pendent. The flower both represents my relationship with my dad and my friends/sisters, as it is one of Alpha Phi’s flowers/symbols.

I’ve worn this necklace almost every day since I received it in mid-July, which brings me comfort, as it reminds me of my dad and my friends. It’s also become one of my fidgets, as I often find myself rubbing my thumb on the back of the pendant, which I find soothing. When I broke the chain today, I didn’t know what to do. I tried to think quickly about when and how I might be able to get the chain fixed, but for the most part accepted that it likely wouldn’t be in time for me to be able to wear it on Dad’s birthday, of all days, and I was crushed.

After I returned to work, I tried to focus on my to do list and was able to get some things done. However, I kept thinking about how I might be able to get my necklace fixed, especially whether it could be possible to do so yet today. I shared what happened with one of my colleagues, who is also an old friend from Evanston, so they know about my Dad and all (though I have shared about him/his death with other coworkers that I didn’t know before I started working at NU), and they suggested I contact and/or stop by Virag Jewelers on Main Street.

I called the jewelry store, to confirm when they are open and if it was something that they might be able to fix easily. Over the phone they said it didn’t sound like it would be difficult, but they couldn’t guarantee that. They told me that they closed at 5:00 p.m. and having gotten in a bit later to work today and taken a longer lunch to visit the cemetery, I hesitated at first to ask my supervisor if it was okay for me to leave early, to stop at the jewelry store. However, I knew that he would be supportive (which he was) and say it wasn’t a problem.

I arrived at Virag Jewelers well before 5:00 p.m., which I felt good about, as I wasn’t sure how long it might take for them to fix, even if they were able to do so on the spot. I parked a bit west of the store, in front of what I soon realized was a guitar store, which felt serendipitous, as my dad loved playing the guitar. Then I headed into the jewelry store and handed the broken chain, with the pendent still strung on it, over to one of the people behind the counter. He indicated that it would likely be a quick and easy fix, which I was elated about. After he took it in back to take care of, I started to browse the store a bit, to see what kinds of jewelry the sell there, which appeared to include some nice and unique items.

Then, I noticed there was music playing in the background. The song hadn’t gotten my attention when I first walked in, as I was so focused on my mission. But, now, as I was waiting for my necklace, the familiar tune and lyrics started to register in my brain and I couldn’t believe it the moment I realized what it was…

You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Wow!

I started bawling.

Granted, I had a mask on (because COVID/the Omicron variant) and was bundled up with winter weather gear (as it was really cold today), so I probably could’ve gotten in and out without them really noticing how emotional I felt. However, when the gentleman returned with my Forget-me-not necklace chain fixed and wouldn’t take any money for it, I decided to share why all of this meant so much to me, including the significance of the song (which at that point I had determined was coming from them listening to the radio station WXRT 93.1 FM).

At this age and stage of my life, I don’t know what to make of these kinds of experiences and that’s okay. There would’ve been a time when I would’ve been absolutely convinced that my Dad’s spirit/soul had something to do with both of these encounters with one of his favorites songs. Now, I am not so sure. However, I still love the idea and possibility that Dad might have and I continue to find comfort in imagining that he can do/does send our family and me signs like these.

Dad, I love you and miss you so much.

Though you were incredibly blessed and lucky to live to see 80, selfishly, I wish we got to have even more time with you. 

I know, I know… You can’t always get what you want.

But if you try sometimes,
You just might find,
You get what you need.

Happy 81st Birthday, Dad/Grandpa Kevin/Kev/Junyer!

Love always,
Kath/Cindy Sue