This month, it will be a year since I lost my father. He really loved holidays like the 4th of July. When I was little, we always went and had a huge camp-out at the Boardman Marina and watched the fireworks. The day always included Aunt Carol & family and Grandpa & Grandma Richards. The second weekend was marked as the "Germain Family Reunion", which included a lot of cowboys at our place in Irrigon. Well, maybe not cowboys, but they sang country music and all had guitars and cowboy hats on! I always thought we must be related to Willie Nelson, because all of my great-uncles sounded just like him when they sang.
I was organizing boxes, and the first photo (Christmas above) was showing through the side of a plastic tub in the storage room. I had to stop and look at the photographs. As you can see, "bunny ears" and weird faces are a common occurrence in our family photography.
I miss him so much.
So much happens when you're a child of a divorce. You go through times of blaming the absent parent for so much that isn't even their fault. I can't thank our Heavenly Father enough for giving my Dad and I the time to mend all of those broken fences before he died. One night I poured everything out to him - all the hurt and disappointments that I held him accountable for. It's amazing what you can learn from your parents, no matter your (or their) age, when you let that type of honest conversation occur. So many things I held against him were so far out of his control. I always thought he didn't listen or even notice a lot of things - - but he noticed them. All of my life, I don't think he ever told me he loved me, but he DID things that showed it.
During my last pregnancy, I was at an appointment when I found out the baby had died. My doctor couldn't perform surgery until later in the week, so I was forced to drive home in the meantime. My Dad insisted on taking me. I was afraid he couldn't make the drive. I was worried that his portable oxygen tanks would not supply enough oxygen for the trip (etc etc). I assured him I could drive home on my own - - and I did. As I look back on that day, I should have let him bundle me up in a blanket and drive me home. It was foolish of me not to give him opportunities like that. That was his way of expressing how much he cared.
My only regret is that I didn't let him do these types of things for me more often. It was his way of reaching out and showing how much he loved me when he wasn't quite able to say it. For the five years prior to his death, I was always worried about him doing too much. When in reality, it probably would have been the best thing for him. I shouldn't have denied him the blessings of helping his daughter.
"'Whatever you do in life will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it anyway."
- Gandhi
It might seem insignificant at the time, but trust me - in the end it's really not. I've learned that lesson.
I was organizing boxes, and the first photo (Christmas above) was showing through the side of a plastic tub in the storage room. I had to stop and look at the photographs. As you can see, "bunny ears" and weird faces are a common occurrence in our family photography.
I miss him so much.
So much happens when you're a child of a divorce. You go through times of blaming the absent parent for so much that isn't even their fault. I can't thank our Heavenly Father enough for giving my Dad and I the time to mend all of those broken fences before he died. One night I poured everything out to him - all the hurt and disappointments that I held him accountable for. It's amazing what you can learn from your parents, no matter your (or their) age, when you let that type of honest conversation occur. So many things I held against him were so far out of his control. I always thought he didn't listen or even notice a lot of things - - but he noticed them. All of my life, I don't think he ever told me he loved me, but he DID things that showed it.
During my last pregnancy, I was at an appointment when I found out the baby had died. My doctor couldn't perform surgery until later in the week, so I was forced to drive home in the meantime. My Dad insisted on taking me. I was afraid he couldn't make the drive. I was worried that his portable oxygen tanks would not supply enough oxygen for the trip (etc etc). I assured him I could drive home on my own - - and I did. As I look back on that day, I should have let him bundle me up in a blanket and drive me home. It was foolish of me not to give him opportunities like that. That was his way of expressing how much he cared.
My only regret is that I didn't let him do these types of things for me more often. It was his way of reaching out and showing how much he loved me when he wasn't quite able to say it. For the five years prior to his death, I was always worried about him doing too much. When in reality, it probably would have been the best thing for him. I shouldn't have denied him the blessings of helping his daughter.
"'Whatever you do in life will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it anyway."
- Gandhi
It might seem insignificant at the time, but trust me - in the end it's really not. I've learned that lesson.
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