Some days it's easier to write than others. Some days you see a movie with a beautiful scene and it reminds you of something specific ... and just like that, the post writes itself. Other days, like today, there are hundred things to write about ... but some are too boring ... some are too sad ... some are too personal. So you sift through the chaff and look for something worth sharing ...
Whatever funk I'm in at the moment started last night. I was cleaning up things around the house and found an old photo of me and my Dad. I was just a wee baby ThirtyWhat ... maybe two years old. I was in one of those plastic wading pools. My Dad ... a Marine, mind you ... was sitting in the pool with me ... looking up at the camera sheepishly like he'd been caught doing something embarrassing ... which, let's be honest, I guess he was ...
Mom did most of the hard work of raising me ... and I'm not taking anything away from all those years she spent cooking, cleaning, and dealing with burgeoning hormones and teenage angst. But my Dad was special. I miss him.
I'd give anything to go back and spend just one more afternoon with him. We loved watching movies together ... although half the time we sat for hours afterward and debated on whether the movie was realistic or funny. Sometimes I'd think something was hilarious and he'd vent about how horrible it was ... or we'd watch something testosterone-filled like Rambo and he'd grin from ear to ear over how great it was and I'd just roll my eyes.
Mom did most of the hard work of raising me ... and I'm not taking anything away from all those years she spent cooking, cleaning, and dealing with burgeoning hormones and teenage angst. But my Dad was special. I miss him.
I'd give anything to go back and spend just one more afternoon with him. We loved watching movies together ... although half the time we sat for hours afterward and debated on whether the movie was realistic or funny. Sometimes I'd think something was hilarious and he'd vent about how horrible it was ... or we'd watch something testosterone-filled like Rambo and he'd grin from ear to ear over how great it was and I'd just roll my eyes.
I miss him ... but I'm also glad he didn't have to see what happened last year. He was disappointed that I'd picked a partner that wanted nothing to do with my family. He always wanted a son to hang out with ... and had expected I would provide him with that person. I failed miserably. At least he wasn't around to see just how badly I failed ...
So today ... to cheer myself up ... I started a crock pot full of corned beef, onions, new potatoes and bacon ... to make the house smell like a home again. And I put away the picture ... in the hopes that someday I'll take it out and it will make me smile instead of making me sad. If there's such a thing as an after life, I hope my Dad is somewhere out there fishing ... or watching Rambo ... and I hope he knows I'm thinking about him.
Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
John Mayer - Daughters
