my dad and me

I was born a hard head. I believe this. I know it to be true. Stubborn and let me find out the hard way because I am just like you were. I did not know that then. Neither did he. Or he did. Either way, life is not a circle but things sure come round. Just like my love for my dad. I see a blend of fragility and strength within him that makes his vulnerability beautiful. I wish I would have spent a lot more time loving him than leaving him. All alone with mom and a lot of stories about me that I cannot change. But today, the truth of what loves is prevails. I know they love me and it took me coming around, not them, to know this. I always took faith, personal. Now I do not. I just miss my dad and would hold him like a baby tonight.

I am always on time nowadays. I believe my dad had keys to every Kingdom Hall he ever entered. He is so solid like that. I believe he wanted to be the first in and probably still so, so he can give more of himself. I remember winter was basically me being frozen unless I was at home, because dad liked to get up early enough to literally, hear the rooster crow. His leather hands and sweat and blood paid for that dirt. That morning trumpet from the Lord, letting him know what his purpose was. Get up and raise this family with the hands I gave you.." I believe my dad can build and fix and diagnose damn near anything I ever saw. That, or he sold it, taking a loss and calling it a gain. I love him for that. It has always been his way of giving back. It took me over thirty years to figure that out.

Wisdom is found in grey hair. It is also found in scars and tattoos and doing a lot more listening then talking. In my last few years, I have found silence in listening now to the things my dad would say. His mind is turning grey. Really grey. The baby of the family can hear fear in my moms voice. Alzheimer's. I dont want to talk about that. From what I gave them in pain and at least what has to be some pretty epic stories around those Colorado campfires, my parents, they returned to me in purpose. In the content of character that made my dad honest till the wheels fell off. Unless it was about a car he used to have. Those grew in horsepower and speed. I hope he remembers them all, just that way.

I wonder what people would think if I said this: My favorite memory with and of my dad? I have to be honest. Me and him and my brother Dale went to a bar in Wellington Colorado years ago. They had karaoke and pool and Long Islands. He knew what he was doing. It was the last time we were all together like that. That's the only time I ever got intoxicated with my dad like that. He was singing along with my version of "You never called me by my name", sitting next to his other boy, singing as loud as he could, and we were happy. That memory will always make me laugh, Or cry. Life is not a circle. It might come around, but it is only, right now.