Mar. 4: Dad's day

Today’s my dad’s birthday. I miss him every day, but today he’s on my mind more than usual. I try not to think about how we would have had him over for brunch last weekend. I would have given him a funny card that he would have pretended wasn’t one bit amusing. He would have hung around for about five minutes after dessert and then made an excuse to get back home. Dad was not one to relax at other people’s homes, although he was better about it if there were kids he could play with and/or tease.

It’s hard for me to picture him with my kids now. I mean, they were 3 and 5 when he died, so they’ve changed a lot. I’m sure Jack would proudly show off his Lego creations. Katie would read to him, maybe draw. She always liked to play games with him, and he didn’t put up too much of a fight when she brought out one after another. Seems like lots of the pictures I have of Dad with Katie and Jack, he’s doing some kind of kid activity with them that I don’t remember him ever doing with me.

Dad worked with me on learning to ride my bike without training wheels. He occasionally played board games with us. But the “games” I remember most were rock-paper-scissors (he was ruthless) and 52-card pickup. Not the most precious of my Dad memories.

He taught me how to wash a car. I kick ASS at washing cars, and I love to do it. In fact, even though I appreciate Vic’s efforts when he washes my car for me, he’s not nearly as precise as I am and usually gets teased about it (and then he threatens to be more like my dad in ALL ways of life and then I shut up).

Dad also taught me about painting and I proudly admit to being a total paint snob because of it. So far almost every time I’ve gone against his advice I’ve regretted it. I learned about the importance of primer, of good brushes, of cleanup and preserving. He taught me why it’s a good idea to mark cans with the date and what room was painted instead of having cans of “mystery paint” stacked in the garage for 25 years.

I could go on and on and on. The man certainly left his mark, for better or worse. Even so, I’d give anything not to have had to say good-bye to him in 2005.

Happy birthday, Dad. You are loved, and you are remembered, today and always.