Father’s Day

Today is Father’s Day and that has me thinking so many things at once.
I love my daughter’s, who are too young to get Father’s Day, but to me, they make everyday like Father’s Day.
As far as the traditional things that are supposed to happen on this day, it won’t be like that here. I’ll still be the primary parent all day and the one that takes care of the house, kids etc.
But that’s ok, because soon, I won’t have these other people here, and that will be very hard.
Housework will be nothing, but not seeing my little girls go to bed everynight should be the worst thing a father can face, other than the loss of a child.

I know alot of “dad’s” these days, are not up to the job, but to me, being a father is what keeps me breathing. It get’s me up in the morning and it wraps itself around me, every waken moment.

My Dad, well, he died almost 20 years ago from Cancer.
But he was never in my life much. My parents split when I was four and I only saw him sporadically throughout the year. Maybe twice at the most, but I still remember my Dad and Mom together. Something my younger brother will never know.
My Dad and I were buddies. I was his favorite, by far, and he made every moment that he was there worth it by treating me like I was his favorite.
We’d go to “the pop shop” (the bar) together when I was a kid and I’d play pool with the other regulars.
When I was older, he’d take me to Pro Wrestling events, hockey games, etc.
I remember that when my parents were together, my dad would come home and make me find the treat he’d always have, usually a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup, which I still love today.

When I was in the Army we wrote more than I did with anyone else, and afterward, we did a few small construction jobs together.
My Dad was rugged, a tough Norweigan brick layer who took no shit, and never backed down from speaking his mind.
But he was a drinker, and that led to the end of his marriage to my Mom and ultimately the cancer that took him.

I remember him coming over when I was about 9, and talking to my Mom while I hid on the stairs. He gotten pulled over, was drunk and beat the crap out of the two Cops and split. Back then, they didn’t call your plate in before they stopped you so he never got caught for that.
My Dad also never disciplined me as a kid. That was my Mom’s job. One night, before they split, I was four, my brother one, My Mom had gone out and he fell asleep so my brother and I decided to make a cake….. on the kitchen floor…… with every and anything we could open from the fridge and cabinets, then we put ourselves to bed.
I think I still have marks from the beating I got over that.

When my Dad died, I hadn’t seen him much that last year, and My mom told me I best go before it was too late. I couldn’t comprehend anything beating my Dad, so I was slammed when I saw him, in a hospital bed they had in the house. Frail, weak, old, looking (he was 56 but looked 100), he looked dead already. His wife woke him and asked if he knew who I was. With alot of effort, he raised his head and whisperd “my boy.”

I cried that night in my girlfriends arms and a few hours later he was gone. Funny, I had premonitions for two weeks and that night, about 4AM, something dramatic happened in my room. I was momentarily paralized by a white “light” that lasted a split second and shook me up badly. A few hours later, the phone rang.
I never shed a tear again, until just now actually, nor did I ever visit his grave, but once soon after. I couldn’t find it now if I had too.
But, I wonder if he watches me now. See’s my kids, my hardships. Knows my secrets and my joys.
I hope he’s not too disappointed.

I love you Dad. And I miss you alot. I wish you were here because I could really use you in my life right now.

Happy Father’s Day!

 

From June 15, 2008

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s