My Dad

I have been sitting here today doing a LOT of thinking about my Dad. The emotions have ranged everyone from anger to sadness. My cousin posted a picture of my Dad and my brother from a deer hunt way back before I was even born. The picture brought me to tears. Seeing my Dad so young and full of life was harder than I thought it would be. It got me to reminiscing about him.
Growing up I was never close to him. In fact for many, many years I was scared of him. It really wasn't until my brothers were both out of the house that I became closer to my Dad. Growing up everyone loved him. He was so much fun and full of personality. He had this laugh that I still hear in my dreams sometimes. It was a completely unique laugh and when you heard it you knew he was close by. He also had a temper which is I am sure where mine comes from.
Somedays like today I find myself being angry. I am angry that I didn't get to know him better before he died. I feel like I just didn't have enough time and I blame us both for that. I am angry that my girls never got to know what a great man he was. How he loved the holidays and was very big into traditions. I try to carry on a few of those traditions still today. I am angry that I lived so far away when he died and I wasn't there for it. I am angry that he smoked those damn "cancer sticks." I am angry that my Mom and my brothers kept saying to me "You weren't here...you don't understand." And at the funeral my name was not ever mentioned. Not once. And yet I am not angry at anyone for this. I am mostly just sad about it. Sad that it took losing him to understand how much I needed him.
So today I sit here all full of tears. Thinking back to some of the great memories I have. I know that mine are so much different than my brothers. I never went hunting with him and I know that is a lot of what they remember about him. Plus they all worked together for a while.
I often think about silly things. I think about going for steak on my birthday or his or just for no reason at all. I think about his tall stories that always got such a laugh out of everyone. The silly Russian dance he did while my brother was on his mission. Or the stupid sayings that I find myself using today like "up shit creek (pronounced crick of course) without a paddle" or "better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick." I think about the days when he and a few of his friends would sit out in the shop for hours on end working on his 53 Chevy Belair. And how they would let me come sit out there with them. I remember how he would always tell me how beautiful I was no mater what I really looked like. That old piece of crap truck "Old Blue" that he drove into the ground. It was covered in drywall dust and worked just as hard as he always did. I remember when he would call me shortly before he died and we would both complain about the horrible nausea we were experiencing. Mine because of pregnancy and his because of chemotherapy.
I have so many things to be thankful for I know that. But for today I am going to sit here and cry and wish that I had more time with him. I am incredibly thankful for him and for teaching me about hard work and family. Love you Dad. Miss you tons!