Papa I know you're going to be upset....

Last night, after I had turned off the light and was trying to drift off to sleep, mind my was just kinda wandering all over the place. As it does. One thing I thought about was my trip to work today, and I was thinking of the various routes I could take. One takes me through a short, one lane tunnel under some railroad tracks. And you have to stop and honk your horn before you go through, so anyone on the other side knows you're coming.

Anyways, my stream of consciousness then took to another similar one lane tunnel from my youth. When my parents and I went to visit my mom's cousin, we had to go through this particular tunnel. And I recalled being about 6 or 8 years old and leaning on the front seat excitedly yelling, "Honk the horn, daddy! Honk the horn!" And he would, before entered, all the way through it, and even out the other side. And I'd giggle and laugh like I was insane.

And after that, on the lane to thier house, there were several small hills. If dad drove the car a little fast and took them at just the right speed, we'd go slightly airborne. Around these parts we call it "hill hopping" and it's what bored teenagers do on boring summer night. But I didn't know any of that at the time. I would just yell, "Go fast, daddy! Make my tummy tingle!" Which is the feeling I got when we went airborne. And he would. And I'd sit in the backseat, bouncing around and squealing for joy.

And as I remembered all this stuff, I recalled that that was one of my most pleasant memories of interactions with my father. He and I never really got along, even from when I was young. As I grew into a teenager and adult, I loved him, because he was my father, but I did not like him. If you can understand that. I often thought, if it wouldn't have been for mom, we wouldn't have had any contact with each other.

And thinking over all this, I got sad and started to cry a bit. I was sad that I had so few pleasant memories of him. (I don't really have any BAD memories of dad either. I mean he wasn't abusive or anything. Most of my feelings are mild irritation or plain apathy.) I was sad that the fun we had together doing this didn't continue as we aged. I was sad that we never had the father/son relationship I hear other people having. I was sad that he and I didn't ever share what mom and I always have.

I know he loved me, in his own way. I know he was proud of me that I graduated college, got a decent job, lived a decent life. I just wish he and I had been able to share more of our lives with each other.

And so I cried myself to sleep last night. And I think that's the first time I've cried about my dad since his funeral in October 2008. And that's also why today, so far, has just been a plain old crummy day. Bah, humbug.

POLT