My best friend told me firsts would be the hardest. She's right. Today is a big first in the line of many to follow...
It's been thirty nine days since my dad went home. Thirty nine days without his never ending smile or his jokes. Thirty nine days of trying to live our new normal. And it's hard...really hard.
It's hard to sit on the front porch and know he's not going to pull up in front of the house, run up the sidewalk, tell me a joke, then take off again while I'm still laughing. He ALWAYS had a joke and a smile.
It's hard not to pick up the phone and try to call him when I hear something, or the kids do something, that would make him laugh. He'd always answer the phone in some silly voice, and I'd always say "hey old man".
It's hard to drive by his house and see his truck sitting there, and know I'll never see him out there cleaning it up again. That was always his favorite hobby. He always had a nice vehicle and he took pride in keeping them immaculate.
It's hard realizing that I'll never hear him sing, "Happy Birthday to you, you belong in a zoo, you look like a monkey, and you smell like one too". Because he always called me on my birthday and sang that to me. He was well known for his sense of humor!
And then there's the parts that aren't so hard. Every single day, something reminds me of him. Most of the time the memories make me smile, or even laugh. Remembering all the good things about him....that part is easy.
A few days ago I was driving through town and traffic was ridiculous (welcome to Harrison!). I stopped at a light and there were a few cars in front of me. We were on a small hill. The light changed and the car in front of me, obviously a standard, rolled back a good 5 feet, almost into me. He killed it a couple of times, then finally managed to take off, just in time for the light to change and me to have to stop at it...again. I though to myself, dang, he should have had MY dad teach him to drive that thing! See, dad refused to let me drive an automatic vehicle, until I mastered the standard. I had gotten pretty good at it...then one day he took me to the steepest hill he could think of, and made me stop in the middle of it. Then he said, "now, take off, and don't roll back". I bet I tried at least a dozen times, maybe more. Finally, I stalled it, killed it, pulled the emergency brake and started to get out. I told him, "I can't, you do it". And then the fight started. He yelled, I yelled, I cried. All while I was half out of the drivers side, and he never even opened his door. Cars were going around us, staring. Finally, when we both calmed down, he said, "are we done now?" I thought he meant we'd change seats and he'd drive us home. But no. He stayed in the passenger seat of this little blue Ford Festiva, and said "you're going to do this, I've got all day, and this car isn't moving until you move it". So I argued a little more, realized it wasn't doing me any good, and got back in the drivers seat. He calmly talked me through it one more time. And I did it. I took off on that hill without rolling backwards an inch. Dad just looked at me and grinned and said, "now, that didn't kill you did it". I can still drive a standard better than most people. And more than once I've been grateful for that. All the cool cars have clutches ;) I might have gotten my love of vehicles from him...
Memories like that come every day, and everyday they make me smile. Even now he has the ability to make me laugh and smile :)
I miss him. I miss him so much it physically hurts sometimes. It's hard to breathe. But then I close my eyes, and I see him....telling jokes, laughing, sitting with Pa and Granny....and I know he's happy. And I know everything will be okay.
