What my Father taught me!

This post is attributed to Jessica (blog The Writing Life Too), she suggested this as a writing prompt. I am going to attempt to try it! (afterthought..its more of an introduction to my dad)

Happy Fathers Day...

My father died just before my 21st birthday. I wish I had spent more Fathers day's or even more days in general with my father. I have to admit, there was alot about him I did'nt know. He was a very hard person to know. In fact I am convinced now that he was most likely bi-polar. He could snap on a dime. We always just thought he had a bad temper, which he did! He was also very loving, in his own way. I can remember hot summer evenings, sitting in front of box fans and he would reach over and take my hand. Not really talking just sitting. I always loved holding my Fathers hand. He had a good size paw and it was calloused. I always use to think, my daddy is a hard worker. I dont remember him ever really having a permanant job, because he couldnt take orders AT ALL..my daddy was always right! haha...but he was a hard worker. He woke early and after coffee he was outside working doing something. Chopping wood (he had a woodstove for heat) tinkering on his truck, working in his garage or maybe building a room onto his house. Possibly even working in his garden. At the time i really didnt like going out and picking vegetables, but now i would do anything to get to pick tomatoes with my daddy again.

I never remember my daddy going to church. He believed in God though, he always had his Bible laying on the coffee table. I never remember seeing him read it. But he said he had read it several times front to back. I also know when he got mad about some so called hyprocrite he could recite some verses. I never saw my father kneel in prayer but many times i caught him staring out the window into the sky and seeing his lips move silently. Once i even asked him who he was talking to and he just said, noone just moving my lips from a nervous habit. I believed him then, but now i really think that was the way he prayed. Maybe in part because i find myself doing the very same thing so often.

I dont really know if my dad could be accused of being a dreamer, maybe he was and his dont get to close to me demeaner just hid that from the world. I know he was very talented though. My dad could play music, and he did so very often.

My youngest memory of my Father was ... We were all of us at a family friends house. (growing up my parents and their friends would go every weekend to each others house and sit and play music, kids playing outside catching fireflys) It was a small sitting room so everyone was crammed in and it was late. I was tired from running around the yard all evening and eating watermelon. Well there was no where for me to sit and i wanted my daddy. I am sure of that since i wasnt sitting on someones lap! So i remember i crawled under his chair (he was sitting in a kitchen table chair) and i fell asleep watching his foot tapping to the music. I remember waking up when he picked me up and i laid my head on his shoulder. I also remember thinking how much i loved his smell. Combination of Old Spice, cigerattes, and coffee! pause..here ..i cant see the screen from my tears...I dont know how old i was but i was small enough to fit under that kitchen chair. I would guess i was under five years old.

I choose to remember the older memories of my Father, becuase i am afraid i was'nt a very good daughter in the years just before his death. He told me once in the year that he died. I was visiting and he said i should come more often. Well i lived out of town so i said well daddy, I dont get down here very much. He called me on that one becuase he said, well i know you visit your mom and dont stop by here, how come? He had me there. I did go and visit my mother (yes they were divorced) and sisters and only stopped by daddy's when i needed something or just didnt have anything else to do. So i said well when im visiting i just have so many people to see that i dont get to see everyone. That was the truth, but i'm sure he heard it as, mom's house was more important. I loved my daddy but we really didnt have a lot to talk about and then i usually felt bad becuase i wanted to leave so quickly. We just didnt have a lot in common, i was young and didnt want to just sit there and stare at the walls. It's harsh but true. He knew it, and I know he forgave me for it.

In hindsight, i would sit there forever staring at the walls if i could hold his hand again.

Pause again tears...you never get over losing a parent, you just learn to live through the pain.

Happy Father's Day, wherever you are daddy....I love you always!