Father’s Day 2017

I lost my dad over twenty years ago, but it still feels like yesterday. I can easily call up the pain, the loss, and the tears. And it makes me realize just how incredible love and the human connection it creates, is.

I hope that those of you out there who still have a dad in the here and now are planning something nice for him. And I hope that those of you who have lost their fathers, have some peace in the love that remains in your heart for your dad.

Have a blessed Father’s Day weekend.

❤ Annie

 

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Father’s Day Blues

dad

Every June I sing the tune of missing you
Where are you, Pop?
Over the moon?
Watching a game
Having a beer?

I wonder about that.
You’re gone
But where did you go
When you left
This place called life?

Can you give me a hint?
Drop me a feather
Paint a little picture in the clouds?
Just a little celestial wave of the hand
So I know you’re still out there.
Somewhere…

So I know
You think about me sometimes too
Just every now and then
No pressure
I’ll listen between the sighs
Real hard
For your laugh
Okay?
It’ll be our secret

Copyright 2015

Father’s Day Missing #21

fathers day 21

You’ve been gone a long time.

And you’d think by now I’d be used to the idea. You’d think that I wouldn’t wonder what your opinion would be about all the crazy crap going on in the world today.

You’d think that the arrival of Father’s Day wouldn’t still hurt like hell when I realize there is no place to send a gift, a card or place a call.

But hell, you’re my dad and I still miss you.

I still want to call you up when I’m feeling blue or when something kick-ass happens. Or when I hear a really funny story. Or even when I see a Budweiser commercial.

I still feel the need for your wisdom. For your perspective. For your cantankerous attitude about all things flaky.

I laugh when I imagine what you’d say about political correctness, climate change and the outlawing of plastic bags and light bulbs.

The worst part is not knowing where you are.

Are you living a new life in Minnesota as a slack millennial? Are you organizing a country band in Heaven? Are you blissfully floating out there in the ether? Or are you just sitting on my shoulder, whispering, everything is going to be all right?

Wherever you are I hope they have boats, Budweiser and country music. I hope they have good coffee and color TV. I hope you’re happy.

I hope that you know that I love you and miss you and wish you were here.

All my

Anita

This Father’s Day

Every year around Father’s Day I get a little weepy because my dad is no longer with us. Put frankly, I miss the hell out of him. I wish he were still here. I wish today I was taking him out for a pancake breakfast and a round of mini-golf, or trekking out to (God forbid) Disney Land so we could go It’s a Small World and the Pirates of the Caribbean a bagillion times.

I think about times we could have spent together but didn’t because we lived 3,000 miles apart. I still can’t listen to Johnny Cash without getting teary-eyed because Cash was one of Dad’s favorites. Ditto with Budweiser commercials, Rodeo movies, and soft-serve chocolate ice cream.

I think my dad was my very first friend. I suppose I am like millions of other daughter’s who were daddy’s girls. And my memories of him are like a crazy mixed-up collage of lessons learned, laughs shared, reflections, realizations, simple pleasures, weird adventures, heated debates and knowing that I was loved.

Dad wasn’t perfect – far from it and I have no desire to idolize him. He was a man with many flaws and could be stubborn as hell. But he was real and he was honest. He knew who he was. He took his responsibilities seriously but he never took life too seriously. He wasn’t politically correct, subtle or fashionable. He was just Lucky. He was just a man who worked hard, loved his family and did everything he could to help and he was my dad.

Happy Father’s Day Dad – hope all is well where you are – that you’re having fun and finding lots of things to laugh about – that the coffee is hot and strong, that the sun is shining and you’re spending time watching the boats in the harbor. That your camera always has film, your radio has a country music station and calories don’t count in heaven.

Love,
Me

Dear Dad (happy father’s day)

Dear Dad,

Here we are once again. To say I miss you doesn’t begin to state the absence I feel.  Every day I think about you and wonder where you are. In heaven? In another life? In some paralell universe? Do they have Budweiser and country music there?

What bothers me is that lately  I’m forgetting. Not you. Not the events of that past life. But the sound of your voice. The lines of your craggy face. Your presence. The connection. I fight it but maybe it is time to let go. Maybe that is the way it is supposed to be. Maybe I’m not letting  you move on and you need to. Still, it’s hard to open my clutching hand. It’s hard to set you free. It’s hard to let you have a life without me.

You will always be my hero. You will always be the most important person in my life. I will never forget the lessons you taught me. I am proud to be your daughter. The morning sky will always make me think of your eyes. And summer tomatoes and Wheaties and black coffee and chocolate ice cream cones.

Thanks Dad – for being you. For being there.

Love,

Me

Hi Dad

old-truck

Hi Dad,

Another year. Another Father’s Day. I’m reminded of you in ways both good and bad.

Good because of all the laughs and late night heart to hearts. The smiles and in jokes. The funny looks and winks.

Bad because those times are gone and have been for some time. And the years march on and there are so many things that have happened that I wanted to tell you about. And I do. But I’m not really sure if you’re still ‘out there’ listening.

I know you’re still ‘here’ inside my heart. I know that I keep that place warm and safe. Keep it a nice place for you to visit.

I miss you in ways that defy words. Deep missings.

And on some level, I know that you know.

Even though I can’t call you with news and events of my whacky life – I’m hopeful you still get the memo.

I never forget. I always remember. You are my dad. My hero. My angel.

Love,

A

Happy Father’s Day, Pop

It’s Father’s Day and it’s been a while since I’ve really celebrated it because my Pop passed away several years ago. An earlier post I did, will tell you about my dad. My first true hero. To say I loved him with all my heart puts it mildly. He meant the world to me. And he still does. I suppose in a way I try to ignore Father’s Day, so I don’t have to miss him even more than I already do. His funny little giggle, and crusty voice, his clear blue eyes and big belly – his everything.

But I don’t want to get all sad and lonely in this post. I want to tell you about him. Just a little. It’s just a small little story but one that I love.

Long after I’d grown up and moved out to California, with my own place and my own life – I used to talk to him on the phone. Probably once a month or so. Not about anything in particular. We just talked about whatever was going on or on our minds. We ‘got’ each other very well, and there always was a real easiness between us. So, this one night we were gabbing on the  phone and he hit all the usual dad bases, who was I dating? were they good to me? how was the job? what kind of car was I driving? when was I leaving the land of terrible earthquakes? stuff like that.

Then the topic rolled around to him. “So, what’s new with you?” I asked. A pause. Eh? Dad never paused when you asked him something. “What?”

“Aw…never mind,” he said. I could swear I almost heard him blushing.

Too curious to let it pass, I said, “What? What is it?”

“Oh, you’ll just make fun of me,” he stalled.

“I will not,” I insisted. “What is it?” I was starting to get a little worried – no one was more of an open book than my Pop and he was a straight from the hip kind of guy, so I knew something was up. “Oh for cripes sake, would you just tell me?”

“Okay,” he said, none too pleased. “Well, I started taking night classes at the local high school.” Pop had never finished high school, something he always regretted.

“Well, that’s great, Dad. What are you taking? Photography? Writing?”

“No, I’m getting my diploma.”

“In what?” I asked, apparently to dense to get what he meant.

“My high school diploma. I went back to school and got my diploma,” he said as though relieved to confess his deep dark secret.

I was so happy for him. I knew what it meant to him and I could tell he was happy about it too. “That’s great! That’s really great, Pop. When are  you going to finish?”

He laughed. “I already did. Mickey (my little sister) and I are having a joint graduation party next week.”

Now, this may seem a bit small to some of you – and I’ll admit that in the greater scheme it probably is. But I swelled with pride when he told me. That at age 60, he would go back to school and right something he thought he’d done wrong 40 years before, really knocked me out. He didn’t do it for any reason, or anyone, just himself. Just because it was important to him – a goal he’d never reached but wanted to. And then to have his graduation party with the youngest of his five children was like the cherry on the ice cream sundae.

And that was my dad. The guy who just followed his heart and never stopped trying to grow or learn throughout his life. I don’t think I was ever prouder of him than I was in that moment.

So, Pop…wherever you are, whether up in Heaven looking down on me, or reincarnated as an American Bald Eagle soaring through the sky – you still are and always will my hero. Happy Father’s Day, Pop.

Love,

Annie