Doesn't really mean much to me other than another good excuse to get together to eat.
I never really knew my Dad. He worked away from home a lot when I was very small so I have little to no memories of him before I was about 8 years old. When I was eight my Dad had become totally deaf and couldn't make a living as a mechanic anymore so we sold his shop and moved out here to the farm. After that he was a stay at home Dad, he farmed and gardened and grew or raised almost all of our food. He did odd jobs for a little extra money and my Mom went to work.
I have a lot of good memories of that time in my life with him, but, like most little girls I adored my Daddy, it didn't matter what kind of man he was.
As I became a teen there was not a whole lot of love between us. I was rebellious and he was mean.
He died when I was just 18 so I never knew him as an adult, but, looking back on the memories I do have I pretty much think he was an asshole.
My Mom and older siblings put him up on some kind of saintly pedestal after he died.. one thing I do know is that he wasn't what they say he was.
But, mostly, he's been dead for 34 years and I don't feel much of anything about him.
Mark's a good Dad and his kids love him, so, today we celebrated. Seth and Em bought him an Italian leather wallet. Levi and Christi bought him some new tool thingy he needed. I sent him to town yesterday to buy himself a new saw he wanted.
Levi cooked 4, 2 pound pork tenderloins; Jason cooked a huge batch of veggies (potatoes, carrots, onions, peppers,mushrooms)on the grill. Seth baked his Dad's favorite cake - chocolate with vanilla icing and Christi made a lemon cake.
Jason brought out his new girlfriend, Liz, and we ate and watched the new Dream Theater DVD that Jason bought Mark for Father's Day.
It's been a good day. I hope you have better memories of your Dad than I do.
5 comments:
My mom and dad divorced when I was two, very acrimoniously. They fought bitterly until I was old enough to use it to maniupulate them enough to make them tired of doing it.
When I was a little girl, he was this beautiful strange man that I got to see sometimes, who I worshipped. I remember walking and holding his two fingers in my hand, because I was so small and it's all that would fit. I remember riding on his shoulders.
I remember sitting on his lap while he trimmed my fingernails and toenails. I remember watching fireworks on the 4th of July and him telling me what chemical made the different colors (He was a chemist). I remember watching him fix his Corvette and riding behind him on his motorcycle. I remember going to countless airshows with him.
I remember how funny he used to be.
There are un-fun things too, but those are the good things. I sent him this list in the middle of responding to this. I wanted him to know that I remember. (Kind of even if he doesn't)
Thank you for your post.
That's really beautiful, Cara, and you are right.. I should just hang on to the good memories and let the rest go.
I was listening to a story on the radio a few days ago when one of the characters said something like "A reltionship is built with memories. The more memories you have with a person the stronger your bond". It made me think of my dad. He wasn't there for a lot of the memories we made, but he created so many that it is impossible to fault him for those that he missed. He made the six weeks we spent with him in the summer count for an entire year. Most importantly, I know he loves me.
I'm close to my dad and really grateful for him. I'm actually closer to him than my mom in some ways (personalities are similar and all that), but only in recent years have I realized that she was the real parent, the real family unifier, when he was a much heavier drinker (and messed up person) than he is now. I just recently got to say thank you for all that to her. Father's Day is as much about my mom this year as my dad, for me.
My dad wrote back, the longest note he has written in years.
Telling me how much he loved me and how much it meant to him that I remembered all of these things. He told me some more things that he remembered, like eating frog legs in the garage (his parents house) and a plane ride in 1969, and a few other special things.
I was very touched. It was one of the sweetest letters he had ever written to me. He told me he was going to keep my letter for a long time.
Good Memories are a good thing. This was a good post, and sent a good bit of light and healing out into the world. You should never feel stupid or inadequate. You healed some old old wounds. You have real medicine.
Thank you.
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