Dad

My father and I had a pretty rocky relationship while I grew up. I realize as an adult how much alcohol and economics played in that situation. Being young, five kids, broke and raised in a harsh household did not add to his parenting skills. I know he did his personal best. He loved painting, reading, telling stories, horses, camp fires and nature. I am my father's daughter.

 About 25 years ago he became very ill. It turned his life upside down. It scared him; it scared us. No more drinking, lots of exercise and healthy food. He became a new man. The father I had always known that was in there somewhere was released. After 30 years, he was calling me on the phone to talk about oil paint colors, to discuss the attributes of a horse I was considering purchasing, talk about the kids and work. He'd drive the three hours to visit my two baby girls. Dad even changed a diaper. That Christmas, he bought presents and wrapped them for us for the first time in our lives. In January, six of us went to Sturbridge Village for a Yankee Winter Weekend for his 56th birthday. I had never had such a wonderful time with him. I was 32 and when he hugged me and said he loved me at the end of that trip it was the first time I had heard that. He said, "Let's do a trip every winter from now on." 

 The next weekend, I was awakened by a phone call from my parent's neighbor saying that my dad had died in his sleep. It could not be. I was in shock. There must be a mistake. He was well and happy and healthy. Please, God, don't take him. I have waited all my life for him to be a real father to me. My girls would never get to learn all the wonderful things he could teach them and what a great man he was. 

 These thoughts of my father came to me as I drove down Flathead Lake today. I miss him. It has been almost 24 years and I still want to discuss things with him. I want to talk about my successes and my failures. Realistically, he'd probably give me advice that makes me feel like a child but I would understand. A man's opinion can be foreign and yet unique. I appreciate the diverse perspective. My imagination creates a father that I have not had all these years reassuring me and giving me confidence; being a strong male that makes me feel safe and loved. He would tell me to buck up and not put up with turkeys. 

 When I admitted to myself today how I still wish he was here, I could see where my emotions get triggered in other areas. When I really care about a man and then he vanishes out of the relationship, with no reason, no explanation, no call - I feel the loss of losing him very deeply. I cannot control his disappearance. I am not able to bring him back. It is the feelings I had way back then. It is the sudden silence that is what has unsettled me and now I see where that connects back. This has been my experience more than once in the past 15 years. Sometimes it was after years, sometimes after weeks. If my dad were here, I would ask him why. If he were here to ask, I wouldn't have experienced the pain of his unexpected death and the emotions would not have gotten stuck. Maybe, just maybe, I would have a different point of view. Now that I have raised these emotions to the surface for healing, I let them go. I have found the sliver and plucked it out. Goodnight, dad, and thank you.

Dad and my oldest