Thursday, June 04, 2009

Oh pa...

I miss you so much.

Every time I look at your picture, I get so sad. I keep wishing this was all a dream and you were here.

It just seems like yesterday you were sitting at the table eating dinner, at the bar in the kitchen talking to mom while she cooked, at your desk in your office putting all your meds in their proper containers, calling me at work, checking up on us kids, working outside, taking Bean to the vet, fixing things for grams.......I think my favorite memories of you are working in your shop. Oh you loved that shop. Remember when you built were so happy. It was nice and big and you spent every waking moment in it.

I remember those years I moved back home and you'd go out in the shop on a Saturday morning and not go in the house except for coffee, three meals and when you finally went in for the night after it was paast dark! And you had an action film (my favorite was Die Hard) and we'd watch it while you worked in the shop and I pulled my car in, changed the oil and waxed it. There were times you'd even do the oil for me. Not because you had to, but because you wanted to. Just because you figured that your little girl shouldn't have to get under the car on that hard concrete and change her own oil. I'd ask "are you sure" and you always said you didn't mind. We spent LOTS of hours in that workshop piddling around building and fixing stuff, and cleaning it up. God knows you could make a mess of that place. How many times did we move that Marvel Mystery Oil or the 12 thousand cans of motor oil/transmission/brake fluid? Always trying to find a suitable place for all that "stuff". You were happiest when you were working outside, you always worked outside, it's where you belonged.

Where you belong is here dad but I know you can't be. Damnit I know you can't be here and that you are never coming back. We've moved on as best as we can, like you wanted us to, but it doesn't stop the pain. It doesn't stop the tears that flow every time I see a picture of you. It doesn't stop the wish that my dad could call me at work one more time and say "hi gaga". I know you can't pa, but maybe you'll visit me every now and then and tell me everything is ok. And keep coming to me in my dreams, I'm hoping eventually you'll say something. So far you've been in the background, keeping quiet in the dreams, not saying anything, but you are there, and I feel happy when I see you. But you'll talk to me when you are ready. Maybe you just want me to get used to seeing you there first?

I have this pic of you holding me when I was a baby, a few months old. You're looking at me and while I don't know what you were thinking, I know you were happy. I bet you had no idea of the messes I'd get myself into eh? You had three good kids and you knew it. Even though we gave you and mom a hassle at times and we weren't always on our best behavior, and there were some tense moments when we were kids, you always sacrificed so much to take care of us. You always put us first, even when it meant your health and your own well-being.

If I could turn out half as good as you and ma, I think I'll do ok.

I miss you pay pay.

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