 |
| The Gremlin! The resemblance is uncanny, people!!! |
Seeing as to how it’s Daddy’s Day this weekend, I wanted to
write something a little different than my norm. I would like to dedicate this entry to all
the Daddies of the world, especially to the one and only – my little Gremlin
(DISCLAIMER: I don’t own my own little gremlin. Actually, I used to call my Dad my little
Gremlin, because he always reminded me of a cute version of a little gremlin
from the 1984 classic: Gremlins).
Anyway, I dedicate this to him and all the Dads that stuck around; the
ones that busted their butts (without one complaint) to make sure we were OK;
the ones that actually gave a shit.
Sometimes, I feel like dads don’t get the credit they deserve – OH and
the soon-to-be Daddies – y’all are important too, unless you fuck it up and then
… well, you’re on your own!
 | |
| My Dad everybody!!! |
Because this blog has been my, sort of, “road to recovery”, I feel like I am ready to write about this, so here goes. About one year and three months ago, my Dad passed away. It was a death that wasn’t so tragic, only because we knew it was coming, but really. What death isn’t tragic? My dad was extremely sick for a very long time so in a way, it was comforting to finally see him leave this world, because there is nothing worse than watching someone you love dearly deteriorate and suffer through a sloooow and painful death. To be honest, I don’t think it really matters how someone dies because no matter how it happens, a little piece of you dies with them. There truly are no words that can express the feeling – that void; the hole in your heart that just can’t quite close itself back up. I really can’t find the words y'all ... losing someone you love is a terrible, terrible feeling. Death leaves a pain that will never go away; I just believe that we grow accustomed to the pain over time.
Not too long after his death, I began to notice a change in
myself. The once bubbly, outgoing and
funny girl slowly began to grow angry, bitter, and depressed. It wasn’t up until recently that I slowly
dragged my way out of the deep, dark hole that I had fallen into, face first. For a while, I even grew angry towards my mom
and my sister because I felt that they bounced back so easily from his passing
and there I was, slowly sinking into a bed of quicksand. I now understand that everyone deals with
death in their own way. Unfortunately,
for a little while, it brought me to a dark place.
The hardest part for me is knowing that the (lucky) guy that actually chooses to spend the rest of his life with
me, will never know how awesome my Dad truly was. My Dad will never be there to walk
me down the aisle and more unfortunate than anything else, I will never get the
father/daughter dance at my wedding that I have dreamed of my entire life. Although he won’t be there for those special moments, I am forever grateful that he WAS there every single day of my life to
help raise me, care for me and to watch me grow up to be a beautiful (and I say
that in the least conceited way possible), hard-working, educated woman.
 | |
| I might never have my father/daughter wedding dance, but I'll always have this |
My dad had a way about him that left an impact on everyone
who crossed his path. Just his sense of
humor alone spoke volumes about him. I
can’t tell you how proud I feel when people tell me that I remind them of my
Dad through my sense of humor and personality.
It is such a great feeling and it never fails to bring a huge smile to
my face. I miss everything about my
Dad. I miss how we would just sit there
and watch cartoons together (picture two grown adults zoned into a Bugs Bunny
cartoon). I miss our daily afternoon
chats where he would tell me some crazy shit about his life; I mean stories
that you couldn’t even make up. I miss
his stupid, ridiculous and sometimes dirty jokes. I miss fighting with him about that fact
that, “I’m a party animal and if I continue drinking, I’m going to end up in rehab” – so he would
say. I miss his one-of-a-kind, savory
dishes that only HE could prepare. I miss
his advice, that no matter what my drama was, he would always end
it by saying, “You deserve the best and you should always do what makes YOU
happy.” I miss how he would embarrass me
because he just had no shame. I miss
that deep, raspy voice of his, which was quite intimidating if you didn’t know
him very well. But … my absolute and
most favorite memories of my Dad have to be the voice mails that he would leave
me from time to time. Because my Dad
came from an older generation, I don’t think he fully understood how voice mails
actually worked and so, they would go a little something like this:
VM: Hi, you’ve reached Natalia I’m sorry I missed your
call. Just leave your name, number and a
brief message and I’ll call you back”.
Dad: Haalo.
Haaaalo!? Natalia?? Are you
there??? (pause) Hangs up.
****************
VM: Hi, you’ve reached Natalia (blah, blah, blah) I’ll call
you back.
Dad: Haaalo! HAAALOOOO! (pause and a sigh) This Goddamn kid
(Um, you haven’t hung up Dad and that’s totally being recorded and I’ll be able
to hear it). Five second pause and then
a sigh. Ok, call me …………… BYE! Es Mario
(thanks for letting me know Dad)
It makes me laugh just thinking about it.
 |
| This is him probably leaving someone a voice mail. *sighs* |
So, wherever you are Dad, I hope you have finally learned
how to correctly leave a voice message.
Also, I want to thank you for providing us with a life filled with
happiness, laughter, love, and of course some of the best memories that I will
never forget. I truly hope that when I
do meet someone, he turns out to be even half the man that you were (and maybe you
can help me out a little and start sending him my way). I am especially thankful that I inherited my
two favorite things about you: Your gift of cooking and your sense of
humor. I hope to leave my mark on the world
with one laugh and one amazing dish at a time – I promise to never let you
down.
I hope you are having a hell of a Father’s Day … Until we
meet again my little Gremlin. <3
