Fathers Day
Happy Fathers Day to all of the deserving dads out there!
This is always a bittersweet day for me, since I lost my father in 2007. It’s been 8 years now and I don’t miss him any less. The pain of loss subsides, the tears are rare and usually for major life events (like my little sister’s wedding yesterday – Congrats Kacey & Dave!). I can still hear his voice in my head, chiding me for leaping before I look usually, or encouraging me to keep running those extra few steps, but it doesn’t cut to the core anymore. Some people come into our lives and leave, for various reasons, and we mostly forget about them unless we stumble across a photo or are actively thinking about that particular era of our lives. People like my father (and trust me, I know not all dads are worth remembering or had positive impacts on their children’s lives) don’t ever slip from your memory. He was a constant in my life for my first 22 years. His death shaped my future. My father could fix all of my problems, even if I didn’t always let him, and when he died it meant I had to start taking a lot more responsibility for my life than I ever had (to be fair, I panicked for a few years and really failed at this). I’ve also set out to prove to his memory that those mistakes, some of them so horribly stupid, that I was making in my early twenties weren’t/aren’t what I was going to become.
I’m so very lucky that I still have my mom, who has put up with more crap from me over the past three decades than she should of had to. I’m also grateful for my stepfather, who I met in (I think) late 2010 and who became officially stuck with all us crazy Murphy women in 2011. Happy Fathers Day Bob! I will always miss my daddy though. I was a daddy’s girl to the core, and as much as I admired my mother’s beauty and fashion sense and enjoyed countless shopping trips with her, I idolized my father. From our every-Saturday McDonald’s trips (originally a way to get clingy-infant me out of my mom’s hair for a bit), to the classic car shows I insisted I accompany him to, to tense and frustrated road trips to various places (when you stick two short-fused, road-rage prone people together in a car it can get snippy) I have so many fond and funny memories.
So on this day I remember him. Some years that remembering requires a stiff drink or two to handle. Sometimes I remember while distracting myself with barbecues and socializing. Sometimes I get to sit and tell stories with people who knew him and loved him as much as I do. I always cry a little bit. I remember him being at every single one of my track meets (and driving me several hours to some of them). I remember him lugging gigantic pool floats through fancy hotel lobbies and not caring what anyone thought. I remember him angrily pursuing his mugger because his wallet had irreplaceable photos of his family inside. I remember him buying me the ugliest “Princess” license plate frame and steering wheel cover for my first car because he thought I’d like them (if I’d been less insecure and had a better sense of irony at 16, I would have). I remember scaring the pants off of him learning to drive on I-95. I remember how he always put family first and left all of his work stress at the door (well most of it, and far better than I think I could). I remember how he insisted he could hear my radio at night (at a volume so low I had to still my breathing before I could detect the lyrics) but would have to crank the TV so loud I could identify a movie through my bedroom floor. I remember his love of gift wrapping and how gorgeous and impossible his bows were to untie. I remember how he loved animals and how they loved him, even the meanest cat we ever had would curl up in his lap every night. I remember how much he hated it if I messed up his hair. I remember him letting us play Short Shorts (summer) and Run Run Rudolph (winter) on a loop in the car. I remember having to pose for so many photos because if we looked nice he was going to document it. I remember him obligingly filming a Funniest Home Videos submission for my sister and I that I doubt ever was sent in (and was just us being goofy and rolling around). I remember his tomatoes that he grew with pride and then took to every restaurant with him, be it a Wendy’s or Ruth’s Chris. I remember the way he would say “Dusty the Dog” and then still try to insist she wasn’t his dog. I remember him in his old Ranchero. I remember him writing us a bedtime story. I remember the good, the normal, the bad. I remember him.
If you’re reading this and you’ve lost your father, I hope you have has many fond memories as I do of mine. If you’re reading this and your dad was absent or a disappointment, while I can’t relate, know that you are loved by many and a greeting card holiday should never make you feel less than deserving of that love. If you’re reading this and you’re worried that you’re going to repeat your father’s mistakes, know that the people who raise you never have to define you. And if you’re reading this and you are a dad, make good memories with your kids, be a man that earns their respect, and don’t ever forget to make sure your children know that you love them. Above all, Happy Fathers Day!
-Brandi
Coffee To My Cream 