This father's day has been a particularly tough one for me. Growing up, my dad was always around. He used to play soccer with us in the backyard, he showed me how to use a hand saw and other tools while he build birdhouses for our yard, he came to every one of my baseball/soccer/basketball games, even if he was just catching the end of it because he had to work all day--he still didn't want to miss it. My dad has always been there to cheer me on. My most vivid memory of him at one of my games was during a baseball tournament when I was in middle school. My team was toward the end of a very competitive game, and both teams were neck and neck. I remember being on third base and looking over to see him smiling at me by the fence. He gave me this little smile and as the pitcher threw the ball past the catcher he told me to run for it and steal home base. Just as I was reaching the plate, the catcher dropped the ball and, of course, I stepped right on it and twisted my ankle. Thankfully, my dad was there to carry me off the field to the car, and even though they didn't count my run everything was okay because my dad was there supporting me, and he was so proud that I tried my best.
In 2011 my parents got divorced and I saw my dad a lot less because my mom was so mad at him after the divorce. To be fair, I was glad that I got to keep living in my childhood home, but my dad had always been there for me. Still, my dad would still check up on me, calling me and texting me just to say hello, or letting me know that he had just gotten this great new job because he wanted to hear how proud I was of him. My dad loved me with all his heart, and I wouldn't trade that for anything in the world.
Two months ago my dad was in a car accident. I was sitting in my college dorm room home sick from class and my mom called to tell me that my uncles kept trying to reach her over the phone. Now, this was odd because my uncles haven't really tried to talk to any of us since my parents got divorced. While I was talking to her on the phone she told me that she had to go because my dad just pulled into the driveway; except it wasn't my dad, it was my uncle. He came by to tell us that while my dad was driving home from getting groceries he fell asleep at the wheel and veered into the opposite lane. While going highway speeds, my dad crashed into a semi head-on. He died instantly, two days before my brother's birthday and 11 days before mine. I don't ask for pity, and I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad for me. It's just really hard to get through everything when you realize your dad isn't going to call to wish you a happy birthday, and you start to think about what he might have gotten you and what he got you last year, and if he knew that you missed him, or if you said you loved him the last time you talked to him on the phone, or when that even was. Your first father's day without your dad, especially at age 21, is certainly not an easy thing to get through. But it's easier when you think about how he taught you to first ride your bike and how you'll always carry that with you, or how he would turn on radio stations that bugged you on purpose just so you'll call him a butthead, or how he told you how much he loved his "baby girl" and wanted to see her soon. I really wish that I would have seen him more while I could, but I know that wherever he is he's still proud of me, and I'm proud of him too.
Also, power drill, my dad had like 4 of those lol.
