The Best of Us by Lexie Wolf
Family members gathered this past weekend to celebrate my dad’s 90th birthday—a sweet and spirited milestone for a man we love and admire. Dad’s love language is words of affirmation, so there were plenty of poems and tributes, toasts and stories. Smiles and laughs. Tears and memories. It felt like the best of us.
My Dad—never tall and even less so these days—is nonetheless a towering figure in our family. He has a sharp, curious mind and an energy that still astonishes me. He lives with deep presence and intention, fully inhabiting his life. He is one of my great Teachers. He’s been a wise elder for many years; his body is only beginning to catch up. He’s been fortunate and has made the most of his gifts. Very often for the benefit of others.
In the truest, oldest sense of the word, he is a patriarch — not in the modern, negative sense, but as a strong presence at the center of our family. Steady, influential, shaped by his own convictions. A guiding hand on the tiller.
Our assignment for the weekend was simple: bring your best self. Show up in gratitude, love, and reverence. Everyone understood the assignment. How good we can be for one another when we show up with that intention. When we arrive ready to witness and be witnessed, to offer gratitude, to speak truths that lift rather than weigh down.
As with all families, we carry our quirks and contradictions, our conflicts and complications. Every parent makes mistakes that haunt them. Every child carries traces of wounds formed before they could name them. But this weekend those things were set aside. We can only act from our state of consciousness at any given time. That truth has softened how I understand others, and I could feel the whole family interacting from that place.
Not that there wasn’t plenty of irreverent, lovingly cynical smack talk—we wouldn’t be us without it. My brother’s epic poem about Dad’s quirks throughout our childhood is one of the great works of American literature. Humor is a great healer.
I’m feeling inspired. When I grow up, I would like to be a loving and compassionate matriarch. A wise, caring, and candid crone. A supportive presence and an anchor for the family. Like Dad, I will surely be an easy target for my children’s humor, too - I already am! That’s good. I am here to serve.
