In case you didn't know, my dad passed away on June 28, 2014. It has been, by far, the saddest, emptiest day of my life thus far. My dad was, well, my dad. And I was his daughter. His youngest, at that.
I was the one who gave him no reason to worry while I was younger and every reason to worry once I became an adult.
I was the one who rolled my eyes at his long pauses and delayed goodbyes on the phone.
I was the one who used to get frustrated with his traditional, conforming ways.
And, then, one day, I lost him.
Now, I realize how settled my life is and how I wish he was here to see it. How I wonder if he is proud of me. And, I wonder what he would say to me if he could see me now. And, I always, always think about how powerful his presence would have been to all the young men in my life -- and it genuinely breaks my heart to know that they missed out on it. Not just for them, but for my dad, too.
And now I wish I could just sit on the phone in silence with him. Listening to him breathe while he thought of something else to say just to keep from hanging up. Oh, how I would love this opportunity one more time.
It took me until now to realize that his traditional, conforming ways - however frustrating - are oddly what set him apart from everyone else. We live in such a broken world. And, my dad, he was one that held on to what was good, honest, and true. He loved - and loved hard - with everything he had. And the world lost a perfect example when we lost him.
I think about him all the time, but I don't always voice it. Sometimes I feel like I should be over grieving for him and other times it is just easier to keep moving forward rather than breaking down in ridiculously ugly cries like I am doing right now.
Truth is, I so did not intend to write this blog today. But, as I waited in an incredibly busy veterinary office on a Saturday after the holidays, I encountered something that could have, I suppose, got me in trouble.
See, here's what happened. I was picking up some allergy spray for one of our dogs. But, I stood back and let the frazzled girls at the front counter help the countless people that were there before me. Minding my busy and sporadically texting my mom, an older gentleman standing nearby was looking my way.
He had one of those looks that told me he wanted to say something but he was waiting for me to make eye contact. So, I did. And he jumped at the chance to speak.
This handsome man who looked to be in his 70's - at least - said, "This is like waiting at the ER for humans." I chuckled and nodded in agreeance. Then, he leaned over in my direction and said, "I got my rabies shot, now I am just waiting on my tag." He was laughing as he held up the rabies certificate for his two dogs.
Me? I laughed at his corny joke and immediately thought about how this man sure reminds me of my dad.
He continued chatting with me about the tags, the busy office, his two dogs - a 12-year-old rescue bulldog mix named Duke and a 14-yr old chihuahua that had two litters of puppies and only one was a boy.
It was his cheesy jokes, his mannerisms, his polite character, and his personality that just radiated my dad straight at me. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to step a few feet to the left and throw my arms around him, squeeze him, and cry - right there on his shoulder.
He was there before me so he was ready to leave before I was. He picked up his tags, turned around face to face with me and said, "You take care, young lady. Have a blessed day."
Oh, sir. You have no idea how blessed of a day it was.
For just a short period of time with a strange man at the vet, I felt as though I was having a conversation with my dad. And, thankfully I refrained from any physical contact so I was able to drive myself home without any legal troubles.
Until next time, my friends - hug your loved ones. 💕
