in the end

It's funny...something so insignificant triggers a memory to me and it's just an inanimate object, place or word to someone else. Today, I'm driving Taylor to the doctor...she fell down the stairs and can't move her neck. I'm keeping it together, but not by much...every slight move for her is agony and it makes me want to break down. As I drive, I start to feel overwhelmed...she's crying in the back - in pain and there's nothing I can do. We stop at a stoplight and there's a car to my left with a white towel hanging over the passenger seat. Only for a brief second can I indulge in the simpleness of it, and then a flash of a memory...my dad...sitting on this towel on his computer chair doing the days bills. He said it was to keep him from getting to hot and sweaty...to prevent heat rash, he would say. We used to poke fun at it really and he would just smile...

Memory's can be so very sweet, and so very cruel...that towel flashes forward to the last time I see my dad alive. He's got edema now and his legs and feet weep...he rests them on a towel and tells me he how he wishes they would just go back to normal. I twinge at this sentence...it's the first time I hear regret...I force a solid comfort and a back scratch while choking on that lump in my throat...I start to feel overwhelmed...he's in pain and there's nothing I can do...

I quickly blink the tears back and focus on the green light ahead, driving on, leaving behind that towel and all its memories. I come to a realization...sometimes those you love hurt, and all you can do is be by their side and hurt with them. Taylor's quiet now - the pain medication must have kicked in...a sense of peace comes over me. I know, in the end, like everything, it will all be okay...in the meantime though, that lump I choke on doesn't seem to get any smaller...

A day at work with my Dad

I watch him work with steady eyes
The sun creeps down, but still he tries
to seal that pipe and stop the leak
so he won't have to return this week.

Another round of blue glue on...
that did the trick, the leak is gone!
He proudly packs his tools away,
blows the drive and we're done for the day.

My hands are dirty, my hair is a mess
My back is hurting and I need a rest
but no matter what time I spend with my dad,
it's always one of the best times I've had.

With the windows rolled down and the radio on
we crank up the music and both sing along.
He smiles at me, saying "I'm proud of my girl."
...no, I wouldn't trade this for the world.

"It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood"...

I love remembering new memories...ones you think have faded away forever and then one day, they just pop right back as clear as a bell. I never realized it, but I liked to have my dad show off for my friends...well...one friend in particular. It seemed Lizzy was always on the same wavelength as me when it came to my dad. He would do the funniest things from a silly little dance while he vacuumed to saying movie quotes in his best impression of the actor. He even liked to sing a little song...not sure how it even came to be our little song, but somewhere down the road he mimicked Mr. Rogers with "It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood". My dad always had a way of putting his spin on things though, adding chords and notes (and words) that weren't there originally. It became this thing, that when Lizzy would come by, we would ask to hear the song...sometimes beg and he would grudgingly (though always with a smile) oblige. He liked to make people laugh from the time he was little and carried a joke book around in his back pocket. So I knew as we listened carefully to his song, that at the end he would be expecting a roar of laughter, which we never would disappoint to give him.

It was this song that grew into a part of our relationship...so silly, yet so closely intertwined between us that it held a dear part in my heart. On my wedding day as my dad walked me down the aisle, he very softly began to sing this song; partly to maintain a casual atmosphere when giving away his only daughter, though it did just the opposite. He got through only the first line, before his chin trembled and his eyes welled up, as did mine. We walked in silence for a bit after that until I broke the ice by commenting if he made my makeup run, I would look like Alice Cooper and Dustin would run away screaming. He chuckled at that and gave my hand a squeeze.

That's a good memory...one I will always hold close to my heart along with my dad.

What a handsome looking group, wouldn't you say!? I have had several dreams with dad in them lately and he's smiling and happy. The last dream involved him and I just talking and joking around. It felt so real, I think I smiled in my sleep. He was teasing me, insisting I was such a bad kid growing up, while I laughed and defended myself saying I was an "angel"...uh-huh ; ) Then I said "I wasn't that bad was I?" and he smiled and sideways hugged me (like in this picture) saying "nah, you were a pretty good kid". I of course had to follow this up with "pretty good!?!" and he laughed. The dreams I have aren't anything significant, but it's the little things like this that just make me think he's talking to me this way. It was a good dream.

My dad was on my mind yesterday. I really could have used his insight...his subtle nudge of encouragement. Dustin could sense something was wrong in my voice and he probed, knowing only a few things make me melancholy these days. What a sweet husband I have...if only you guys knew. He reminded me of what my dad would have said and it was so perfect - exactly what I needed to hear. He's gotten really good at that...I'm sure the last two years have made him an expert. He makes me smile through the phone - now that takes talent. As my dad would say "what a good boy"...he really is.