maybe that's a good sign, but I can't see it that way right now.
January 17, 2007 was the day that my father died. In case you can't math it, that's eight years now. Eight years without my father seeing how much I've progressed. Eight years without my father's advice... advice that I could frankly use. Advice that I seek.
January 17, 2015 was spent listening to music, posting about it, researching new phones, buying a new phone, and finally playing with it all night as a movie played on the TV. At no point did dad cross my mind. I love music, but if I could see my dad for a single hour I'd give up music for the rest of my life. I dig my new p hone but it's a thing. It's a toy. It's a shiny bauble that doesn't mean a fucking thing. And it got my attention instead of taking a moment to reflect upon my father.
Dad is often in my thoughts. When I do well I pine to let him know about it. When I do bad I ache for his words of encouragement or even his chastisement. He always seemed to know which I needed and offered it without asking.
"Atta boy" or "Well, you fucked up" were both welcomed responses.
I could line up excuses as to why I didn't give my father even a moments thought on that hallowed day, but that's all they are. Excuses. I even had a sign to point me into those thoughts.... a friend's father passed away recently. I offered my condolences and sent good thoughts to him and his family but I didn't want to focus on it more than that... because it reminded me of my own loss. Of my own hole that I can never fill.
So... here's something for Dad.
Dad,
I miss you so much. I love you so much. I know I say the former to often and said the latter to little while you were here physically to hear it, but they are both true. I know we had our rough spots. There were those few years when I was struggling to escape the chains of childhood and embrace what it was and is to be a man... in those years I hated you. In my naive eyes you were the one holding me back. You wouldn't let me make my own choices when I thought it obvious that I could make them. You told me when I had to be home and when I could go away. You limited when I could see my friends. You scolded me when I didn't get perfect grades, and you limited how much I could work. You refused to let me spend my money how I saw fit.
Thankfully those stupid years were few. As I ran away and fooled myself into thinking that I could prove you wrong, I learned quickly. Instead of proving that your opinions on grades were silly, I learned that grades are an important measuring stick. A tool to be used. Instead of proving that I could manage my money better than you, I learned what it was to be 'without' as I wasted it away. Instead of proving that I could be independent, I learned what it is to be without family. And even as I learned these things and spat bitter hateful things at you, you were always there to support me. You knew when to back off... when to let me fall and bloody myself. You knew when I needed a kind word, and you knew when I needed a silent hand to help me out. You never ground salt into my wounds. You never once reminded me that you had taught all of these lessons to me before.
After those tumultuous years, we grew closer together than I ever thought possible. I see people now that aren't close with their own fathers and I want to grab them by their shoulders and scream at them.... but you taught me that no everything can be learned. You taught me how important it is to learn through experience.
All of those features that used to embarass me about you... being so gregarious, being so open and honest, being so firm in your convictions and at the same time allowing yourself the room to change your mind when new information was offered... all of those things that I thought made you weak are the very things that I now strive for. I'm not you... those things which were a part of your core self are additions to my own core. They are things that I have to work at. But my life is so much better when I can better emulate you. When I fail at something, it is most often because I wasn't acting like you would have. Like you did all the time.
And if your honesty taught me nothing else, I can say with conviction that you weren't perfect. I know that you struggled with aspects of your life. You rarely let it show, but you weren't perfect. You taught me that no man is perfect, and that while perfection is firmly God's realm, striving for perfection is grand indeed. You always were striving for perfection. I'm now always striving for perfection.
So I forgot about the anniversary of your death. I'll regret that and feel bad about it, but I'll continue to look at you for guidance. I won't let the fact that I failed prevent me from getting back up and continuing to make myself a better man. I've let myself cry about your loss, but I won't do that all day. I'll wipe dry my wet cheeks, get ready for work and go do my duty. Not because I have to, but because I should. Because it's what you would do.
I love you so much Dad. I always will.
Your son,
C
No comments:
Post a Comment