I was so optimistic about getting back into the creative part of "me" until a storm blew through. Some storms are foreseen but others totally catch us by surprise. This is one storm that we never saw coming.
On Thursday, I was settling in from working all day when the doorbell rang.Two state troopers. The dogs began to bark so J went outside to speak to them. He came back inside with both of them following close behind.
"What's wrong?" I whispered, afraid to speak any louder. I had only seen on movies what happens when state troopers are at your front door.
"Dad was killed," was J's reply.
The bits and pieces slowly came together. Dad was driving on a curving two lane road and for possible unexplained medical reason, he veered into ongoing traffic and hit a fully loaded logging truck. There were blessings in it but we wouldn't see it until later. He was riding with his partner in crime...his buddy, his dog Max. Max survived as did the two people in the logging truck.
Dad was the kind of guy who could crack himself up over a joke that only he got. He was also the kind of guy that had euphemisms for days. I admit that I hated watching sports with him because he missed the point of the game while looking at the players and saying, "That guy needs a hair cut!" He also believed in all things Sasquatch and watched the shows that somehow "proved" to him that Bigfoot really existed. Let's not talk about aliens. Those were real too.
Dad liked to win and hated losing. One day, we went fishing and he wasn't getting a nibble so in 15 seconds or less, he pulled his rod out of the water and said that he just didn't like fishing anymore.
He never got my name right either but he was the only one that I let it go with. It really was no big deal to be called Ramone instead of Simone. After all, he got some of it right. If he couldn't remember Ramone, then he resorted to calling me "Kid".
As much as Dad was funny, the serious part of him was this...he loved his son. He fought for him. He sacrificed for him. He taught him what to do and what not to do. While cleaning out some of the clothes in his closet, we found t-shirts from when J was playing football. He was one proud dad of his son's accomplishments.
I may not have had him in my life for long but he has left a huge mark on my life but being one of kind.
I miss you, Dad.
Weekend One Word: Rooted
21 hours ago