Sunday, June 15, 2014

Warbling Somberly.



Happy Father's Day to all the men out there raising people to become bigger and better people. I can't cover all of you or all of your roles, so consider this a blanket statement. You're doing a bang-up job, so go you!

I'll be BBQ'ing burgers tonight for dinner on our Weber grill, which I was only reminded of my dad having when my mom mentioned he'd received one as a Father's Day gift, gosh, like 35 years ago, that he was really excited about. (I'm the family grillmaster.)

I'm very lucky that the last thing my father ever told me was "I love you" over the phone. That I won't ever forget, though the memories of him and what he used to do, and things that happened grow ever increasingly vague as I age. I'm the same age now as he was when he died, and it's a wonder.

I would've loved to have seen my dad try to text on a cell phone. First, he wouldn't understand the cell phone, then when he'd try to text me, he'd fuck it up immeasurably, get frustrated and throw the damn phone across the room, until I could calm him down. Same with the TV. He'd be calling me over every day to fix the television when it was probably something as simple as him having the cable on the wrong channel on the TV. And it's ok. I'd do it. 'Cause it's Dad. (If it was my mom, I'd probably let her sweat it out a little longer.)

I'd have loved to have had him walk me down the aisle towards my ultimately failed marriage, though he never would've let me marry Craig. He'd have told me to hold out for someone better, no matter how in love I thought I was at the time. I have little doubt that my parents would have been divorced by now, and, if given a choice of which parent whose whose house I had to share, it'd be his. I know he'd treat me with 100 times more respect than my mom does, and he was so easy going, he wouldn't freak out at every fucking thing that ever happens. He'd be chill...like me. It's safe to say I've walked away with both his good and bad characteristics, and my mother asks "who spawned me." I tell her, "YOU DID. But who am I like? DAD."

It's funny.....this morning, on Facebook, my dad's former secretary from his ill-fated attempt at owning a business, not only "liked" the photograph of myself with my dad, but she commented that it was exactly how she remembered him and she made it a point to remind me what a caring and funny person he was. She said she couldn't wait to go to work every day just to be around my dad's antics. That really, honestly warmed my heart.

I wish he knew his grandsons, who are amazing young men. I do wonder how he'd react to Jake being gay, but I should think he, like my brother, would accept him and love him regardless, because love means more. That doesn't mean he wouldn't be saying Hail Marys in Polish every time he saw him. My dad was pretty open-minded. He'd patiently watch Luke do dozens of card tricks and marvel at his creativity. He'd ask ME, "Who spawned LUKE?" I'd say, "ME!"

Seeing as we're both goofballs, I think we'd be pretty much best pals if he was alive. He'd agree with Luke that I shouldn't date and would scrutinize any potential mate even more ferociously than Luke does. I do see a lot of my dad's personality in Luke, but Luke's personality is a lot like mine. Luke's a lot book-smarter, but not half as street-smart. I just hope the mental illness and addiction skips at least one generation. That's what worries me.

If I was given a choice to take a walk and talk things over with either Jesus or my dad, it'd be my dad. I already know all I need to know from Jesus. My dad's another story.

I'm missing Luke today, not having seen him since very early Thursday morning. He's not coming home until late tomorrow afternoon, spending Father's Day with his dad. By the time he comes home tomorrow, I'll be at my interview at the other university, and then I'm going out for dinner with Meg. (Tots!) I'm at least happy that Luke has a dad who loves him and minds him (he took him shorts shopping for me this weekend since he's 2 months behind on his child support :( ) but I'm possessive about my kid. I have homework I should be doing, but I took another nap, got a haircut, took another nap, and will grab something to eat with my mother. I'm not exactly terribly motivated.

I wonder how Guy's doing. I don't think, I imagine, he saw any of his kids this Father's Day. I'm still in the grieving process of processing his abandonment.

So here's to you, Daniel George Miklasz Jr. You were the best Daddy ever, even during the short time I knew you. You exist now in my dreams and are my guardian angel, I'm sure.



4 comments:

Luke said...

More book-smart? Not half as street-smart? What you talking about man?

Kate said...

Andrea, Your father must be so proud of you . You love him unconditionally . That must have made his world a much better place . Of course he would love Luke. It hurts just as much to lose your father when you are forty. If he was the only person in your family who saw your talent and intellect and all the crap your siblings put you through. Our fathers made us strong. I wish your father was here to tell you how proud he is of you. And I know what he would do to a certain spine-less, gut-less wonder with those handcuffs he saved for people who hurt you. I was so lucky to have my father for so long , but losing him was like losing part of myself. Andrea , I can not even begin to imagine what you went through when you lost your dad. You did not let it turn you bitter about life, it did not turn you into a mean bitch who blamed everyone else for what happened . Instead , the Andrea I met was a delightful mischievous young woman who was always laughing and always making me laugh harder than I ever had before.You were always pushing the envelope as far as you could. I get angry with you when you forget how phenomenal you are. I owe you an apology. Please accept my apology. If you want to grieve a relationship , you have every right to do so. But don't get angry with me for believing that you deserve much better.
( Your father is whispering in my ear! ) He wants only the very best for you. You'll find out when your Prince sweeps you off your feet!

Andrea Miklasz said...

Luke, what I mean is that you're extremely intellectual. Book-smart. Intelligent. But when it comes to practical life skills, you're sort of in the same boat as your Dad and I. We're both book-smart and not as street-smart. My dad didn't earn his high school diploma until he was in his mid 30's, getting a GED. He was kicked out of 3 high schools. But he knew how to kick ass out on the streets and wouldn't take crap from anybody. I hope you become a terrific mixture of both of those qualities, but for now, your intellectualism is your dominant trait. I didn't mean it as an insult.

Andrea Miklasz said...

Kate, you owe me no apology. I know you get frustrated with me when I negate my being phenomenal, but understand, I live amid constant negative reinforcement and pounding in of everything that's wrong with me and now what's good about me.

My father is beaming in heaven at all the work I've done to better myself and take care of my amazing son. And if you laugh, it's because he laughed, and he taught me how to laugh. He taught me how NOT to take life so damn seriously. He made mistakes, he was no angel. But he WAS caring and funny and over the moon in love with my brother and I.

Losing him at 11 didn't make me bitter. It made me a stronger fighter. My mother didn't know how to cope with the loss, so she ran from it and left Steve and I alone under our Nana's supervision most of the time, but she missed out on raising us during our formative years. I forgive her for that, I suppose, but she needs to learn how to grieve properly, even 30 years later.

What would become of me being as bitter as my mother about life losing my father? Nothing. He didn't leave us on purpose. It was just too late in the game for him to survive. If anyone is to blame, it's the damn hospital who let him go cold turkey without alcohol after drinking daily for 20 years and not medicating him, causing him to have a massive heart attack. Guy's dad couldn't revive him. If anyone should feel responsible, it'd be that father and his doctor son.

Oh, believe you me, if my dad was alive and caught wind of what Guy did to me, he'd handcuff him to something very uncomfortable for a lengthy amount of time until he sweat it out.

Prince can't sweep me off my feet. He's too short. Oh, you mean A PRINCE. It'd be nice if he showed up sooner rather than later. I'm starting to get pretty lonesome.

I have always said that it doesn't matter if you're 4 or 40 when you lose a parent....the grieving process is the same. We just approach it differently. Especially daughters.