This Sunday is Father’s Day and this bitch can’t help thinking of my beloved father who passed away several years ago.
I think of him most during random moments…while doing lawn work or eating a hot dog. Those memories are so vivid they sometimes take my breath away…sudden images of the most random of moments that seemed so insignificant until the possibility of them no longer existed.
I have learned some amazing lessons through the process of missing my father and coming to accept the ever present ache that is loss and remembrance.
I’ve learned that wild outrageous laughter has no expiration date. It floats eternal in the atmosphere of those who experienced it. I close my eyes and my mind reaches out and captures it…ah, just for a moment to savor his loud crazy from the stomach laughter that made heads turn and caused lips to curve.
I know that the taste of my father’s nastified experimental meatloaf is a stronger memory than the grandest of meals or fanciest of dining experiences. I will never forget the look of culinary satisfaction on his face while removing that meatloaf from the oven or how it transformed into comic horror after his first sample.
And I know that my father’s flaws were as precious as all of his distinguished accomplishments. I even understand his fear of an empty refrigerator…that paranoia about hunger that he never could shake no matter how many years he put between himself and the abject poverty of his youth.
This Father’s Day I lovingly remember those flaws and imperfections…the deep appreciation for motor oil and grilled meat…the dedication to social justice and giving back…the inability to resist fucking up perfectly decent recipes by adding ridiculous amounts of oatmeal and/or coffee…and the laughter.
Oh yes, his laughter...