This is a post I wrote a few weeks back, around the beginning of July. My dad was sick, and stubborn and refused to see a doctor. He seems to be better now, thankfully but still stubborn as ever. But yet, I know he still needs to go see a doctor, and he still refuses. I probably over reacted when he got sick, but for the first time, in a very long time I realized my parents aren’t immortal. I won’t get them forever. This note is for my father, but could easily be to my mother as well. Her and I may fight more, but I know that her love is the same as my fathers. They both chose to love me when they adopted me, and for that I am forever grateful.
How do you, no how can you, put into words how someone has truly effected your life? How can you give them the thanks they deserve for always being there for you, even when you were not there for yourself? How can words ever do a father justice, a father whose unconditional love nearly broke you at times? A love that you could never understand. There were moments were I did not know how he could have loved me. Yes, I am not perfect, close too, but not quite. I guess the only way, is to try to put it into words. This is my trial…
You’ve always loved me. The love you gave me and my brother was a special kind of love. It was not one of a paternal parent. You CHOSE to love us. That, is a kind of love I hope to one day return. You have taught me that, even if you never intended too. The ability to love another’s child. You fell in love with mom, and choose to love Jimmy. You both choose to love me, and let me live. For that, I am grateful, eternally grateful. But your love did not stop there. It is strange trying to put it into words. The best I can think of though is, unconditional. It seems no matter how stupid of a mistake I make, or upset at you and mom I get, your love always shines through. Without words. It is rather quite impressive. You do not have to ever say those three words, yet I honestly know, no man has ever loved me, or will ever love me more. (Uncle Tommy, you are a close second, very close.) But that is my father. Words are not needed to know when he is happy, angry, sad or in pain. Well, actually he uses a lot of words to let us know when he is in pain. But at the same time, I know he never truly lets on just how much pain he is in.
Saying few words does have its drawbacks though. I wish sometimes I could just sit him down and tell him, yet I know I would freeze, unsure about what to say, and just word vomit “I love you”. That is all I ever seem to be able to tell him. Nothing more, nothing less. He deserves so much more though. He’s taught me words are not necessary. Mom could spank me a thousand times, and yet nothing could beat, or ever will beat just a half second look of disappointment in his eyes. But as quick as he looked disappointed, that love would shine right back through. I guess it comes with kids. Mom says he was much harder on Jimmy, my older brother, then me. From the stories, I know that is true. Yet one thing I do not think she ever realized, dad could still be hard on me. Hell, I am not sure even he knew he was being hard on me. He never meant to be, but it was needed. The man is a constant. He never seems to falter, or waver which makes this all that much more harder.
He is still here, I can still hear him, see him, touch him, hug him, and yet I can tell he is not still here. He knows it. Mom knows it. Jimmy knows it. I refuse it. Not him. I still have so much to show him, so much to learn from him. I can not. I wont believe it. I need him too much. It is all about to come crashing down. He is not just my father, he is my future best man, my kids favorite grandfather, a teacher till he has taught me all he knows, and I am not ready to keep on without him. I do not believe I can. One show we always use to watch was Smallville. We both love Superman. Which is kinda funny, because he has always been my Superman. Ten feet tall and bullet proof. The funniest man I have ever known. He has forgotten more about nature and animals than I will ever know. I just do not know how I will ever get by without him. His words are never needed. But I need his looks, his look of approval, his look of hurt, he keeps me centered more than anyone can ever imagine. People always say when you are in a situation, ask yourself “what God or your Grandmother think of what you are doing”? They can always be so judgy. Yet, I always ask what my dad would think. How would he react. How would he look, and feel.
He is my Superman, and it hurts that much more seeing him go, not knowing if anything can help. See, my Superman is stuck in another generation, were doctors are not necessary. This is when Superman becomes a stubborn old man, but is he just being stubborn. Maybe mom is right, and he knows. Maybe he is ready. But I am not ready, that has to count for something, right? Words, letters strung together to make sounds of approval, of judgement and of love. Yet for us, words were never necessary. Love was a look. The look of a little boy staring at the man who held the world on his shoulders and made it look easy.
The son you chose to love, and loved you all the more for it.