Today is such a bittersweet day for me. Father's Day. I see messages sent out by my friends into cyberspace - wishes of a happy day for their own dads, and they make me smile and they make me so very sad that I no longer have my own dad to send my wishes to. Rather than allow myself to sit and feel sorry for myself, I am determined to focus on the positive.
My dad came into my life when I was 12. I knew him for 2 weeks before he and my mother decided to make our family official by getting married. As I slipped into my angsty teen years, my dad gave me everything I needed - he was there for me when I was upset, he yelled at me when I got out of line, he took interest in my artwork and I took interest in his fishing. We sat on the couch together and watched National Geographic and This Old House, and we jammed out to Queen and Aerosmith and Elton John. When I moved out of my parents house when I was 17 and refused to talk to my mother for over a year, my dad was the one that showed up to try to smooth things over. When I needed to be driven to the hospital, he drove me and held my hand as I cried in the passenger seat. He made me feel comfortable in my own skin, and he allowed me to find the humor in myself - to not take myself so seriously, while always being free to speak frankly about whatever was on my mind.
While I miss him intensely today, and every day, I am thankful for the lessons I was able to be taught by someone who came into my life late, but was there at every crucial step afterward. I am thankful that I have someone to look back on that let me be myself, while still making an impact that allowed me to choose to be like him, too. I'm thankful for the example he set as a father so that I might judge other men to see if they measured up as potential husband and future father of my own children, and I'm thankful that he instilled the strength in me to call things as I saw them, and to fight for what I was entitled to, even when it meant we butted heads.
I remember him telling me for the first time that his name was "just Joe," and today I know how much more than "just an average Joe" he was. To the only man who could have possibly been capable of being the father I needed; to the one who forever fills that space in my heart; thank you for taking the job. You are missed.
[p.s. - yes, those ARE acid washed pleated jeans tight rolled at the bottom. don't hate. lol.]
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