|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