He gave me everything. Everything that a father could give. And of course, it was rocky at times. Moments when you think as a small human, “Is this right? Is this what family is?” Moments when you realize that you’re the boy that he always wanted to teach. Moments when you have Tonka trucks and a dirt pile and that makes you soooooooooo happy. Moments when yes, you know what dad needs when he says, “gun”, “driver”, put your earmuffs on…and you hand them over and get in his way because you desperately need to see and learn about what he’s doing. And then he looks at you and smiles and then explains (in SO MUCH detail) what’s happening. You learn all the words (kind of, because your 10) Plate, joist, decking, sill, carrying beam, neutral, hot, ground, vent, chop saw, circulating saw, jig saw, sawz allllllllll…and for a time you take it for granted. Until that day that you go to college and get a degree in Architecture and realize that he gave you that from the start.
And the hugs. CRUSHING RIB breaking hugs. That meant: Even if I don’t say much or talk about emotions or know what the hell is going on in your life, I love you more than this hug will EVER express. Because that nurse over there ———-> she will one day see you walk in to radiology before I go into a 2 hour surgery, and she will know that you are the one that I’ve been speaking of. The one that I’m so proud of. The one that I’m rather frightened of. The one that I brought up to be strong and independent and loving and (sometimes) forgiving and who she needs to be. Because that nurse knew me the moment I walked through those stupid couple 6’ wide doors.
And to all the boys, ever. Those guys that had a gun brandished before them, those guys who were told to go home and take a shower, those guys who were informed that they were no longer allowed in my parent’s house, those guys that my dad said weren't worth it/couldn’t understand me/wouldn’t let me be…….me. I stand before you. In front of my dad. Because I am the stronger one (in body), because I NEVER imagined my father to be weak in human muscle form. Because you can never envision that until that one day. When it happens. And you stand up and become all that you need to be. To be that human who will reach over and cock that shotgun, sneer and reprimand you, tell you that you don’t respect me. Step up, in front of my father and realize he taught me all that I know and that every moment he acted upon something, I cataloged it. Because it would become me. I am the one now. I am the one that you should feel apprehensive about approaching, simply because I don’t have a daughter, but because I was a daughter. And I am every daughter.
He taught me love. There is history and it could be hours upon hours of my brothers and I discussing history, but I saw the transition. The time when my mother made him who he is today. And it’s been 41 years…because that’s how old I am(????)…and there is, “I’m scared, but I’m supposed to be this strong human who doesn't need anyone to help…so I can never. Ever. Ask for help.”
My love of trucks.
My love of guns.
My love of the smell of cut wood.
My love of fighting.
My love of hugs.
My love of bedtime stories.
My love of the quiet.
My love of being with someone and just sitting.
My love of being tucked in.
My love of people who can't sing.
My love of hugging.
My love of humans saying, “I love you.”
My love. of. Love.
—this is unedited and I have sweat in my eyeballs, so…….real life.``
