Sunday, June 17, 2012

Father's day

The first time I heard that song, my dad told me it was one of his favorites.  And now, it seems appropriate, when asking "why?".  That's the way of the world.  And so it is.  I generally avoid the holidays now.  I try to suppress images of my parent's birthdays.  It is not now, nor was it ever necessary for there to be a holiday to coax my thoughts to my parents.  I still think about them.  Every day.  I still have dreams.

When their passing was fresh, I had thoughts and even hopes that in my dreams they talked to me.  That I was communicating with them somehow.  I would grade each one on realism and naturally place the more enjoyable dreams in some category that made them real.  Now that some of the sting has left and my acceptance of their departure is more mature, I realize they live in my dreams the same way they live in my life.  As memories.

These memories are wholly positive and uplifting to me.  Please don't misunderstand.  But they are memories.  When I find myself in a situation that I'd like my dad to be in with me, like a funny show or something, I imagine what he'd say.  In these instances, his dialogue is of my imagining. 

But I don't have to wonder if he would be proud of me, or if he'd be pleased with me.  My dad was a good dad.  A loving father.  And he always loved me.  I believe he still does.  But even so, I want to make him more proud.  I wish he could hear me play.  And I really wish I could hear his thoughts about working on the boat.  It would be so much more real to me with this man who I loved to talk to about these things.

Besides the impressions in my mind, I still live with his impression on my soul.  I was given a great gift by my parents.  That of my perpetually positive attitude.  My dad was not a hater.  He stayed up.  I could count on that.  Even in my folly I see him and am thankful.  Even in my obnoxious manner I see my mom and am thankful.  I couldn't say they live still in me.  I carry some of their gift to the world.  My friends enjoy this gift.  I enjoy it too, in friendship.  There are so many other things they gave to me.  It would be an insult to catalogue them.  I want you to know that I am happy with who I am and thank you guys for it.  I miss you every day.  Still.  But I am doing better.  And I'm trying now.


Anonymous said...

They are proud of you and love you..

Anonymous said...

Corey you're parents worshipped the ground you walked on. Both of them loved and cared about you very much.

Cwatts said...

Thanks for the nice words. It's good to hear. Especially from people who I suspect knew them well.

Anonymous said...

Well yeah considering dad never shot you with the bb gun and used the excuse of only pumping it once!

Cwatts said...

That's a fair point. Because he didn't shoot me. In fact, I got a spanking for messing with the bb gun before. At least he was consistent with do as I say, not as I do. I'm sorry to laugh, but how ridiculous is that that he shot you with a bb gun? In the house.