I want to call my dad every day to tell him things like they're showing Elizabeth Taylor movies on AMC and discuss her life and tell him that I'm reading Marilyn Monroe's biography, and wow, what a trollop she was....and that I broke into hives on my arm, did he ever do that, since we share odd physical traits?
Do you know that he taught me the joys of riding in an un-air-conditioned truck in the dead freaking heat of Mississippi in a pick-up truck, with the windows almost completely rolled down, listening to Paul Harvey? And the fun of that were those were the days he took me to work with him at EMCC to show me off and take me to Brigg's, who made the best homemade French fries I've ever had, to this day. I was like 8, and met his friend Larry Salter, who taught psychology, and I said, "Psychology, huh? The ego, the id, it reads like stereo instructions, don't you think? It's tiring." First of all, I was EIGHT; second of all, I made a new friend for life.
I never would've known about the Smothers Brothers and the Yo-Yo Man or the complete odyssey of Elvis Presley, and I had the joy of having him teach me speech and English Lit, although, damn, he was a hard-ass. He critiqued my speeches ruthlessly, saying I "played with my hair too much," and he actually counted the times I said "like" and "um," damn smartass. He still gave me As, but I assure you, I had to work for them.
My mom asked me tonight if I realized tomorrow was the anniversary...it's funny, I'm terrible with dates, honestly, I'm horrible. Outside family, if I remember your birthday, you are gold to me. Otherwise, I'm useless with dates. Honestly, I'd forget our anniversary before Smitty would, but luckily, 11/25 is an easily date for me to remember. But, my dad's death, I will remember. I will do something tomorrow to commemorate, just for myself, if nothing else. I want to pick up the phone and call his snarky ass, and this is why I find death unfair.
Maybe I'm a woman child, I dunno, I don't think that I will ever be "over" losing him. We had too many memories and commonalities. He loved the ocean when we were little. I loved the ocean when I was super little, although one fateful summer day when were at Gulf Shores, it was raining, and we watched TV inside...Jaws 3...I have literally set foot past my ankles three times in 20 years as a result of that movie.
Further, the next day, the sun came out, and he was all about the ocean again. I refused...and he wanted a picture with me and my sister on our rafts. I had recently been given a kidnapping lesson at school, so when he tried to literally force me on the raft, I screamed, "He is NOT my father! I want to go home!" and those damn tourists completely ignored me, and there is a picture of me, forced on a raft, crying, but where it could be interpreted as really awkward smile. I made him regret that later.
We had a dog, Clyde, a black cocker spaniel, that my brother "gave us" when I was about 7. He was the sweetest dog on the planet. He was the best possible dog for kids, all he wanted was to be petted and loved, and we actually had him the longest we had a dog (prior to Mr. Norton, of course), and he got flattened in front of me and my mom one summer day by a grain truck, that not only saw that he killed the dog, but saw us reacting to him killing our dog, and he kept right on driving.
I saw my dad cry one of the maybe 3 times in my whole life when he collected Clyde and buried him in our backyard under a Christmas tree-esque tree in our backyard. He loved dogs and detested cats as much as I do, and it's funny, I feel like a part of his spirit of his stays alive in Norton, because of how much he loved him. They went to the post office every day, they attempted fetch, but Norton doesn't do fetch, and he genuinely kept my dad company.
I will leave you with a funny story, as tomorrow might be a dark, suicidal post..(nah, not really) I was really good friends in high school with a black guy named Romero. He and my boyfriend John were going to drive to pick me up for a movie. Not that my dad was ever a racist, but he never made things easy for anyone ever picking me up. So, John and Romero arrived, and I leapt to the door, "We're ready, I'm leaving, see you later," but he had to meet everyone. He had met my boyfriend John before, but he met my friend Romero, shook his hand, and said to him, "If you're cool with Emily, you're cool with me..." I wanted to die, while Romero and John were hyperventilating from laughter, and then he yelled, "She turns into a pumpkin at midnight!!" If I had could've crawled under the seat, I would've.
"Dad, your guiding hand on my shoulder will remain with me forever."
Author Unknown
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