2002-06-10 ~ 8:20 a.m.

Dad

So.... I had a great deal to say today. I stopped in at Chicago Brewing Co., surprise, yes, I know, on my way home from the BFRE's house. And I talked to a guy who is now a new edition to the 5 o'clock tribe. And I had much to say about that. Much I had to say about the world.

And then I got home.

And I checked my email.

And I had a e-greeting from my mom.

This doesn't surprise me, as my mom has a hard-on for e-greetings.

But what did surprise me was the contents of the e-greeting.

It was a little Precious Moment type figure praying, as Precious Moments do.... and my mom wrote a note about June 20th being the anniversary of my father's death.

Wow. That puts things in perspective, doesn't it?

June 20th. The 21st anniversary of my father's death. Well, at least his fucking anniversary is old enough to drink now. I couldn't even tell you when his birthday is.

And then, if you put it in "real" years. That's 21 years that I've had to live without him. 21 years that I haven't known his opinion on ANY facet of my life. 21 years to wonder what things would be like if he was here.

I'll be honest. The man was an alcoholic..... But in the same honesty, the man loved his little girl.

Thursdays, Round Table Pizza. He even took the time with one of his friends to untangle my slinky (when they were ALL made of metal.) Taught me how to roller skate. Taught me how to ride a bike.

And then he was gone.

Never to mortally know how I turned out. Never to give me the advice when my first love broke my heart. Never to be there when I needed help in any school subject. Never to be there to give me away at my wedding.

Only "in spirit". Only in memory.

You ask me about him, and I'll tell you. Point blank. Most people find the need to say, "I'm sorry," after understanding his demise. There's no real point to it. I was 5 years old. I was playing at his funeral. I didn't understand that he was never coming back.

When I did finally understand, I was 10 years old. I found a newspaper clipping that my mom had kept detailing his untimely demise. Hell, no one had even told me EXACTLY how he had died. And when I found out, I unleashed an emotional volcano.

You ask me tomorrow, and I'm still as nonchalant about it. Again, hell, it was 21 years ago.

But, yet, the other woman, who he was her true love, sends one fucking e-greeting, and I'm a mess again.

It's rare that I break down and cry because of him. It seems like there's nothing to cry about anymore. But every now and then, it all comes back. To me, he was the most perfect man in the entire universe. If he would have lived, I'm sure things would be different. He would just be my dad. But it's like a rock star dying at an early age, it SEEMS that there is so much more they could have given. The world feels cheated that they were taken so young. As I sometimes feel cheated that he was taken when I was so young.

I have to keep reminding myself that I wasn't, in fact, cheated. If he would have lived, I'd be just another faaaaaaaantastic corn-fed Indiana girl, not the uber-successful woman I am today.

But that's it, I guess. I wouldn't have my life now. Wouldn't have the incredibly important friends that I have today. Wouldn't have the boyfriend I have. Wouldn't be in faaaaaabulous Las Vegas.

I'll admit, I can't say that it would be better or worse. But, most importantly, I wouldn't be in fucking Indiana, dude. Sure, they have a great Children's Museum and all....

I haven't even been to visit my dad's grave in almost 15 years........cause who the fuck do you go and visit in Indiana except dead people.

No, I think he knows how I feel from here. Visiting a generic military headstone isn't going to change that.

But Jeeeeeezus-tap-dancin-Christ, it would be nice to see if he was proud of me or not.

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