One Thing You Should Never Ask A Young Person When Golfing With Them On Father’s Day
A Simple Life Lesson for Golfers
My boys are golfers.
My husband taught them to play golf.
From the time they could hold a plastic club in their hands my husband Patrick played golf with them. When they were still in diapers, he would grab a bucket of balls and have them swinging away in the yard. As they got older he bought their first set of junior golf clubs and any chance he had he took them to the golf course to teach them the game.
He would tell me he was taking them to putt for an hour on any day of the week to “give me a break from the boys”. I knew that really wasn’t true.
I realized not only did he love the game but even more Patrick loved teaching his sons how to play the game of golf. It was the three of them. Together in nature. No phone calls. No distractions. Just Jack, Charlie and their dad.
He taught them golfing etiquette (never leave your clubs on the green), how to be a gentlemen (always tuck your shirt in and wear a belt) and gave them their first driving lessons (what boy under the age of 12 doesn’t want to drive the cart!). They knew he would buy them a frozen Snickers on the turn (“don’t tell mom please”) and if they were lucky he would pack their swim trunks and take them to the pool after. On a hot day after a round of golf, what little boy doesn’t want to go swimming and then get to choose a popsicle at the snack counter (“DO NOT tell your mother you got TWO treats!”).
My husband was a golfer.
He loved the game.
Even more he loved playing the game with his sons.
The summer of 2012 was a ridiculously hot and humid summer. Charlie was almost 9 and Jack was 12. I had torn a calf muscle playing kickball with the boys and was in a walking boot. I couldn’t move around easily or spend much time in the heat. Every night that summer Patrick would come home from work, pack up the boys and take them golfing. I was happy for all three of them to be spending the summer golfing together as I laid on the couch with my foot up. I smiled knowing Patrick was going to do his favorite thing with his sons and Jack and Charlie were going to do their favorite thing with their dad. It was perfect.
At the end of the most amazing golfing summer for the three of them my husband died by suicide.
His death devastated us. Crushed us to our core.
I took the boys golfing the week Patrick died. We played in silence. We were all in shock and I didn’t know if the boys would ever want to play the game again. But we played. We ate our frozen Snickers. They had their shirts tucked in and their belts beautifully buckled. They reminded me to keep my clubs off the green. And I let them drive the cart. We couldn’t talk about Patrick. The pain was too much but we played those 9-holes for him. I played those 9-holes for him.
We never went back to that golf club after he died.
A year and a half later, I packed up and moved the boys from our home in Wisconsin to a new life in Fairfield, Connecticut. We needed to start over. We needed to leave the chaos and the stigma behind.
When we moved I gave away most of our belongings but Patrick’s clubs were packed on the moving truck. His twelve pairs of golf shoes (he not only loved the game but loved to shop) were packed in a box and loaded too. “You’ve got to look good to play good Sandra” was the line he always gave me when he came home with another golf shirt for the boys. I couldn’t give away the shoes. I couldn’t give away the clubs. I knew the boys would grow into them and maybe want to take a piece of their dad with them to the putting green.
We showed up in Fairfield in mid-July and not knowing a soul. Most days I would drop the boys off at the public golf course. They would ask to go to the range. I would take them. I never said no. It filled our quiet days before the new school year began. It filled our grieving hearts too.
For the next 7 summers, as the boys moved from their junior golf clubs into Patrick’s clubs back into their own, grew into Patrick’s shoes and out of them and got their drivers licenses so they now can legally drive the carts, Jack and Charlie have played together any chance they get.
My boys have become best friends on and off the course. They have a brotherly bond like no other and golf is a beautiful piece of their dad they share.
Anytime they asked to play I say yes. Just like when Patrick would ask to take the boys to play. Golf means so much to me. I wanted them to meet new people (especially be around dads), have time together, be off their phones, and continue to have a love for the game their dad taught them.
They have played on the golf team in high school and Junior PGA tournaments. Last summer Jack got a job at the range (can you say free range balls and golf!) and this summer Charlie is waking up at 5:30 am every weekend to caddy and work in the bag room at a club in Fairfield.
Golf is in their blood.
In those early years in Fairfield, I would drop the boys at the course and drive away crying wondering how they felt as they walked onto the course. Are they thinking about their dad? Are they okay to be playing in a foursome with two strangers who might ask how they learned how to play? How would the boys respond? What would they say?
After every round of golf, I ask “how did you play and who did you meet?” They always tell me what hole they had the longest drive on, where they shanked the ball and fill me in on the who made their foursome. If they were a good golfer or a “hacker” as the boys call those who swing may not be made for the PGA tour. But they have never shared anything about how they felt about their dad when playing…until after they played 18 holes on Father’s Day last year.
For the past few years, the three of us played on Father’s Day together. I wondered what people thought of our threesome on those days as it was mostly men playing with their sons. Last year the boys wanted to play 18 on their own. I was okay with it. I want them to find peace in their hearts however they can on one of their hardest days of the year.
I asked, “how was your round and who did you play with?” Jack and Charlie both smiled. Jack said “Mom, we played with these two great guys. We started with small talk and so they knew we were brothers. I don’t know if we have ever told you this but everyone we play with usually asks what our Dad does for a living. When we were younger this was really hard to answer but we have gotten used to it. I tell them what you do and then tell them my dad died when I was 12 and Charlie was 9. They say they are so sorry. Some ask a few questions but most are uncomfortable and we move on with small talk.”
My heart sank.
I never knew this and I immediately felt guilty for letting them play on their own those first few years. They were 11 and 14 and were having to navigate their story and grief on the greens.
Jack continued to tell me that as he was walking down the fairway Bill asked him a question.
“Jack, what did you get your dad for Father’s Day?”
“Mom, I didn’t want to tell him. He was a really nice man and I thought this is going to be really uncomfortable. But I told him.”
“Bill, our dad died when I was 12. He loved the game and taught Charlie and me how to play. That’s why we love the game too” Jack said to Bill.
“Mom, I think Bill wanted to run away by the look on his face. I felt so bad for him. We were only on hole three and he had 3 more hours with us.”
Jack and Charlie went on to tell me how amazing Bill and his golfing buddy were. Instead of ignoring the enormity of what Jack had just shared with him (most people say they are sorry and change the subject), he asked about Patrick. He asked if their dad was a good golfer (“no he was a hacker”), he laughed with them about the crazy things Pat did on the golf course and was kind and empathetic to my two boys on the day for Dads.
Thank you Bill and your golfing buddy for turning around a tough situation. You gave my boys the best Father’s Day Gift they could ever receive.
I believe so many life lessons are taught on the golf course. Etiquette, respect, and patience but there is one more life lesson I want to share with all of you golfers.
As we head into Father’s Day weekend, please don’t forget that not every young person has a dad in their life.
Some dads have died.
Some dads have left and never come back.
Some kids never had a dad.
All you have to remember is the young person you are golfing with is playing a game they love on a day that could be one of the hardest days of their year.
Celebrate them, whatever Dad story they may have.
