Song for my Dad

My best friend always used to tell me that I was kind of slow. Except, she said it nicely:  "Beccah, you live in a hole, under a rock that's soundproofed, but you have an oatmeal raisin cookie, so it's okay." In fact, she was so enamored of this description of me that she drew it on my Spanish book in our senior year of high school.

The point of this is not to tell you about the wonderful, special relationship I have with the insane girl I call my best friend; that's for another post. The point is to tell you just how ignorant I can be of things, even when they are staring me in the face. The latest example of this is that, until today (when I looked at a calendar), I was completely convinced that Father's Day was this weekend, not last weekend.

Yes, I know. I have perception issues.

When I discovered this, I felt absolutely and totally horrible. Not just because I missed the day that basically everyone is obligated to tell their father that they love them, but because my dad absolutely deserves to be told every day how wonderful he is, and I don't do it nearly enough.

I get much of my quirky personality from my mom, but basically everything else comes from my dad. My eyes, my bushy eyebrows, my horribly crooked smile that got corrected by braces in middle school, my need to take care of everyone that I love when they're down or ill, my passion for cooking random and exotic things, much of my love of eating... I could keep going on, telling you how we're both non-confrontational and have a love of books beyond most anything, but you get the idea.

When my brother left for college, I got really close to my dad. My parents divorced when I was in grade school, and I live with my mom. As any sixteen year old can attest, that's about the age where you start fighting with your mom about nearly everything. My mom and I rarely had any big blowouts, but things were stressed, to be frank.

That's when I turned to my dad. I didn't live with him, so he was a welcome respite to the tension in my house. We'd chill out in his apartment, making three bean enchiladas together and watching Criminal Minds or a movie until late at night. We'd talk about anything and everything, take turns kicking ass at gin rummy and Clue, trade books - it was a great time.

I loved those weekends we spent together. They were my lifeline into my family, my reminder that things will one day get better between me and my mom. My dad and I had a rough patch when I was younger, but the fact that we got through it and were now baking and laughing together again filled me with hope. *

When my family was dropping me off at college, there was a moment. My dad had been completely stoic all throughout the day - helping me get my room set up, taking a tour of my school (he hadn't seen it before move in day), going through all the workshops they had set up. Then came the time to say goodbye. His flight was in a couple hours, and he and Jo had to leave in order to make their flight. He gave me a giant hug, and said, "Be good, kiddo," like always.

I don't remember seeing my dad cry before then.

Saying goodbye in the Kettering parking lot

Since then, we've had a different relationship, but still are wicked close. I only see him a few times a year, but the times I do I treasure beyond measure and we usually stay up half the night talking. I eagerly await his care packages (he still is the only person to have sent me newly picked apples!) and emails. Since he's gotten a Facebook, he now knows far more about my life (I'm a bit of a social networking junkie) and isn't surprised by what color my hair is when I come home.

I love him more than anything in this world (excepting other family members that I love just as much).

The sad part is that I've never really told him all of this. I've teased him for driving like a turtle (another thing we have in common!) and told him how much I love his cooking. I've congratulated him on his new job and thanked him for all the things he's given me over the years. Whenever we talk, I sign off with an "I love you," but I never really expressed to exactly what means to me.

My brother, Dad, and I at Christmas 2011

That's what makes missing Father's Day this year so deplorable to me. How could I not realize that it was the one day of the year to tell someone who means so much to me how much I love him?

So, that's why I decided that this year, my dad gets his very own Father's Day. It may be a week later than everyone else's, but hey, good things come to those who wait, right? Delayed gratification or whatnot.

My dad isn't perfect. We've had our issues, our disagreements, our bad times. But I am so, so incredibly lucky to have him in my life - he's the best dad that any girl could ask for.

So Pops, this is for you. For all of the games of badminton we played, for all of the tennis games you watched me lose at, for the loaves of zucchini bread you've sent me, for all the good times and bad.

Happy Father's Day!

Note: replace all "son"s in the song with "daughter", please. <3
Note 2: Sorry it's just a giant picture of Keith Urban; I couldn't find a better video.


*For all those interested, my mom and I are on much better terms now. We even have a mini vacation planned in less than a month together for my 21st birthday, just after a mini vacation with my dad to New Hampshire with a bunch of relatives!