Father's Day isn't a day I usually think much about. Not anymore. Almost 7 years ago, my father died. And, a little over a year later, my father-in-law passed away too. Since then, the day has gone from being extremely painful, to one I usually avoid all together. But, for some reason, this Father's Day, I felt that a little remembering was in order.
Not that I need a special day to remember my father. As long as it has been, I still think about him almost every day. I loved my father, but our relationship was a bit complicated at times. I've heard that we were too much alike. And, that is what caused the friction that sometimes came up between us. I can see that. My dad didn't take a lot of bullshit, he told you how it was, and he wasn't always big on saving other's feelings. Sounds a little like me. But, I don't know how alike we were. Sometimes, I feel like I didn't know him very well at all.
But, I guess that is common for a lot of people. After he died, all I could think about was the things I never had the chance to say to him. I never got to tell him how much I respected him, even if he drove me mad sometimes. And, I never got to tell him how much he influenced my life and how important pleasing him was to me. I hope he knew, but I'll never be sure. Having not lived at home for the last seven years of his life, I feel like I missed out on knowing him as a grown up. I always felt that, in a way, I was still a little girl to him. I worry that he died thinking I was a lost cause who would never grow up.
I've tried not to dwell on things like that over the years, but it's hard. It is hard not to think about the stuff he's missed out on. He never got to see my house or the new houses my siblings moved into. He didn't get to walk my sisters down the aisle at their weddings. I think about the grandchildren and great grandchildren he didn't get to meet and how much he would have enjoyed watching all of them grow up. I think about all the things he and my mother would have done and all the fun they would have had. We could have spent the last seven years having epic arguments about George W. Bush, the war and gas prices.
I try and remember the good times. The crazy, embarrassing way he used to dance. The way he would laugh at Benny Hill (God knows why). The way he would drag us all over the earth on vacations, taking long back ways every chance he got. He taught us all to bowl, swim and get ketchup out of a full bottle the right way. He would come to all our recitals, band competitions and sporting events. And, all the little things: getting sundaes at the Trumbauersville Store, eating at the Keystone on Saturday night, going to East Greenville for ice cream in the summer. Those are the things I will never forget.
As loathe as I am to be corny, I know he is with us. All the time. I do believe that, even if I don't believe anything else. I just wish he were here. It is as simple as that. I miss him. Just as much as I did then. It sucks just as much, and it is still just as unfair. But, life goes on. Somehow.
When my sister had her beautiful baby girl, the first thing I said when I saw her, was that she had my sister's nose. But, really, it is my dad's nose. On her tiny face was yet another reminder of how he is living on through us. I hope, wherever he is, he knows how much we all love and miss him. And, that every time I look at that sweet little face, I see him. And, I smile.
