Bean Loves You For A Thousand Years & A Thousand More

I'm going to admit I've been dying to write in my blog since I've written last, I've just chosen not to more out of stubbornness than anything else.

Yesterday was Father's Day and it's usually a day I just overlook.  But as I was scrolling through the book of faces  (Facebook) yesterday all I could see where girls with pictures of their father's or sons wishing their fathers Happy Father's Day.  And honestly toward the end of the day I was angry and extremely tired of seeing them.  I was over the fact that I no longer have a father to tell that to.  All I have left is the memories since I was 11 years old and after.

The memory of my dad taking me out on a motorcycle ride while my brother was probably at practice for whichever sport he was doing at the time.  So my dad took me on a good 30min ride with my small black helmet and me riding up front.  The rule always was, anytime you're on a motorcycle you have long pants on, close-toed shoes, long sleeves, and a helmet.  No exceptions.  Sitting on the front of his Harley with my small black half helmet. So I got the bugs in my face...thanks Dad haha.  And on the way back from our ride him slowing down to tell me Russ would be home when we got back and not to say anything because he was just going to take Russ around the neighborhood.

Jeez, I'm going to cry writing this....

Or the memory of me and Dad running an errand in his silver Nissan pick-up and Will Smith's "Just the Two of Us," came on and he told me that every time he hears that song he thinks of me and Russ.  But me and him rocking out in that little old truck to TNT or Black Betty.

My dad was a mechanic and just a handyman in general but worked on fixing cars and motorcycles mostly.  I remember by brother having a remote control car that something was wrong with and it wouldn't run out in the shop (where my Dad did all his mechanic work) one day.  So I went out there and sat on my Dad's lap and watched him.  It probably only needed the batteries changed in it honestly.  But for some reason when my Dad got it all put back together it wouldn't start.  So my did flip it back over and took off a piece from the bottom.  I remember having the piece in my hand and putting in on a certain way.  And then the car started working again.  It was probably just an adjustment for the batteries but I honestly thought I had fixed that little remote control car just by putting that piece on the right way and I was so proud of myself for "fixing" something since Dad was a mechanic.  I'm so glad he let me have that moment and sitting in his lap just made it that much better.

I think this is probably why I want to learn how to do things on my car so bad by myself or be able to do things around my apartment by myself also.  I might call a friend for help but have me do most of the work, just them tell me what I need to do.  It's my way of making my Dad proud of me and being independent.

One story we (my family) die laughing over is one night at dinner Dad said the word stupid.  The word stupid, no big deal right, but it's the way my Dad said it that made it so funny.  It was more like....steewpid.  I started laughing so hard and repeating it making fun of my dad and my brother started dying laughing also.  Dad was trying to be serious at dinner and got tired of us making fun of him really quick.  So he told us the next person who laughs was getting popped.  I honestly couldn't help myself.  Just thinking about how Dad said the word stupid made me giggle and sure enough I was the next person made a peep and unfortunately for my brother both of my Dad's hands reacted instead of just the one and we both got popped upside the back of the head.  

My dad would let me steer the lawn mower while he mowed on the riding mower.  I would sit up front.  He would come to some of my gymnastics meets.  He was an amazing dad.  I was Bean to him although I had many other nicknames, but mom said his most frequent for me was Bean.

I think the hardest memory for me is the night before my dad past away we had a conversation that my Mom said lasted a good two hours.  What in the world could we have talked about for 2 solid hours!  And unfortunately I ask this question all the time.  I don't remember a single word of our conversation the night before my Father past away and that honestly hurts me to no end.  Why would I forget that big and long of a conversation?  The next day I had gone to gymnastics practice. I don't remember if it was a Saturday or if it was just summer time and after gymnastics went to my friend Nikki and Megan's house until my mom could pick me up after finishing work.  When we got home there were tons of messages on the answering machine from the hospital telling us to come down that it was important but didn't want to sound too urgent because of course they didn't want us to panic.  I cried off and on after they told us the news.  For some reason I felt it was my job to be the strong one.  

I remember mom taking us to a grief counseling class for parents and kids and I honestly never wanted to be there.  I was angry all the time and didn't want to talk about my Dad's death.  And I still don't talk about it much.

This is something I have only scared with maybe 2 people in my life, one being my brother.

I remember our first vacation without my dad, I think it was later that summer, when all of our families actually got along.  My mom and I slept in the same room and I remember going to Diary Queen that night.  That night I had a dream that I was actually riding my horse (something I always dreamed of having one day was a horse of my own when I was a little girl) down my Aunt's long gravel drive way.  Not sure why it was at my Aunt's house.  And my Dad came riding up on his motorcycle.  I had the biggest smile on my face.  My dad stopped beside me on his Harley and I stoped on my horse and he looked at me and said, "Take care of the family for me."  Yes, this was my dad looking to me after he had passed away and I knew that he had in this dream asking me to take care of the family!  How in the world at 11 years old was I going to be able to do that?  I think I remember a big hug and kiss but there was no riding back off up the gravel driveway away from me as I watched knowing he had asked this of me.  The dream was just over.

So now as almost 18 years later approaches, June 21st, all I could think of on Father's Day was the memories I have of my Dad and the ones that I won't get.  That he had to miss my graduation from high school and college.  See me move out and away from the family.  Make my own path in life.  Meet the men that I have dated and having his approval of the ones that I wanted to date and for some of them unfortunately I did.  Having him someday walk me down the aisle whenever I get married or hold grandchildren in his arms.  Or that the man I marry one day will ask his permission to marry me.   And he can never tell me he's proud of me. 

Honestly, wondering if my dad is proud of me is something I long to hear just about everyday but it's something that I long to hear from him.  No matter how many people tell me he is I always wonder.

I sometimes wonder if my father was still around if my feeling wouldn't grow so quickly for any guy that I like.  It's one of the things I consider a flaw for me.  But one thing is for sure, I'm definitely not afraid of those feelings.  Just wish they wouldn't happen so quickly!

So yes, I was angry on Father's Day.  Because I love and miss you dad!