My father passed over in April, 2008. He's been gone for awhile now but some days it feels like yesterday.
My dad was a great guy, he wasn't the best dad in the world but he was a great guy.
It's not that he was a bad father, he just no idea what to do with me.
If you speak to the bio brother he'll tell you a different story. He and my father bonded, they had football and baseball and golf. They were guys, my dad knew how to deal with guys.
A strong-willed, hormonal, adolescent girl........poor guy didn't have a clue. We could barely speak to each other.
It was hard but as I got older our relationship softened. I lived in New York he lived in Georgia. It's easy to "deal" with each other when it's just once a year.
As time went on, New York began to wear me down and I started to think of coming home. It was strange, I needed a break, I needed a soft place to lay my head for awhile, I needed home.
Unfortunately, no one seemed excited that I was coming home, not my mom, not my friends, no one except my dad.
My dad was excited, genuinely excited. He wanted me to come home. It felt good......hell it felt great.
We talked and emailed about my plans. He helped me set up job interviews and reviewed my updated resume, we were doing something together for the first time.
He helped me pay for the truck, made sure I called him while I was driving home. When I got to his house he let me store the entire contents of my apartment in his basement until I got settled. He even put money towards my new car.
He was finally MY dad and I think he really enjoyed it. When I got my apartment he came over to check it out. He installed a security bar on the sliding door and made sure I had pepper spray for my key chain, it was so nice. Never in my life had I been taken care of like that.
It's something most of my boyfriends complain about. I don't know how to let someone take care of me, I never learned.
That was the first and only year of my life that I let someone love me, really love me.
My fathers death was sudden, completely unexpected. It took something from me.
It took a lot from me.
That last year I had my father I spent a lot of Sundays at his place.
He had a beautiful pool and an outdoor kitchen. He loved to make margaritas and grill while me and the step-monster floated around the pool. I don't recall our last Father's Day together, probably because I spent most of my Sundays with him. I'm sure there were cards but it was probably just pool, grill and margaritas like all our Sundays.
I've been struggling lately. I know my father would be unhappy with how hard I have become.
I have met some amazing men this past year but no one that doesn't scare me.
They either don't really have a job, haven't really ended that last relationship, might be alcoholics or full blown drug addicts. Not all of the men I've met fell into these categories, but the ones I really wanted did.
It's hard to let go of your heart, to trust someone else with it.
I think that's what my dad was trying to do that last year, teach me that it's ok to trust someone else.
To trust that someone else will pick up the slack.
So today Dad I make you a promise.
I'll try to do better.
I'll try not to be so hard.
I'll try to let someone else pick up the slack and trust and expect others to help and love me.
and I'll try really hard to not fall in love with the drug addicts.
