This weekend I took a trip with my mother to Jacksonville, FL to meet Gino (her biological father) and also to attend her half sister's wedding. I was pretty excited about the trip and being able to meet more relatives. Ever since Dad passed away, I'm finding myself placing more priority on the relationships in my life. You never know when someone will be taken away.
During the trip, the topic of tattoos came up and it reminded me of how loving my dad was. When I was 18 years old and a freshman in college, a friend of mine was coming to visit me at my dorm. About a week before she arrived she called to tell me she'd just gotten a tattoo and that I would be getting one when she came to see me. I thought, "whatever" and quickly forgot about the conversation when the phone was hung up. She didn't though. Within a minute of her arriving at my dorm she asked if I was ready to go. I said, "Go where?" and she reminded me of the tattoo conversation. Peer pressure got the better of me and off we went to MPG Tattoo in Salem.
I had no clue what I wanted to get, but finally decided on a palm tree as that represented my love for the desert and where I was born. The tattoo healed nicely but I chose to keep it a secret from my parents for fear of what they would think of me. As a younger teen I remember joking with my dad and asking if I could get a tattoo, to which he responded, "Yeah but only if I get to decide what it is and where it goes." Shocked I asked, "Really?!" And then he laughed and said he'd have "stupid tattooed on your forehead."
Since my palm tree is pretty small in size, I was able to cover it up with a bandaid whenever I'd visit home. Then one day I decided to tell my mom, but I made her swear not to tell my dad. I knew that would be incredibly difficult for her because they shared everything. But I was tired of feeling like I had a secret and needed to share it. I have no clue if she ever kept that secret or not because neither let on that they'd talked about it.
After some time I decided I was no longer going to hide it from him and I just needed to be brave. I took the bandaid off my ankle, walked into his room where he was laying on the bed watching tv, and then laid down on the bed too. I quickly lost my nerve and got up to leave the room, but then he asked, "what is that?" He'd seen the tattoo in the mirror they had in their room. So I showed him and waited for the smack down I felt sure I'd get.
But it didn't come. Instead he showed love without judgement. No judgement whatsoever! He didn't even say he was disappointed with me. All that time I was worried for nothing! I wish I'd realized sooner the deep love my dad had for me. I would've shared more freely and lived with less fear of being a disappointment to him.
There is so much I would redo if I could. I think that's why investing in relationships now seems like such an important thing to do. I don't want to live with regrets in any of the other relationships in my life. I just wish it hadn't taken losing him to realize that.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Where It All Started
A couple weeks ago, Levi and I packed the kids up and took them on a plane ride to Tennessee. There we would introduce our children to their Mamaw (my dad's mother) for the first time. After he passed away, the family decided too much time had gone by since we all gathered together. So we decided to do a family reunion.
What a long week it was. It was great seeing my dad's side of the family, especially my Mamaw. However, we were ready to come home by the end of the week. The last time I was on the roads we drove down, was with my dad during our trip to Tennessee just a couple years earlier. My Mamaw had been sick and in the hospital. Since we didn't know if she'd pull through, I made the decision to accompany my dad who would be going to see her. I do not regret one second of that trip I took with him. I loved seeing him "in his element" which he definitely was when among his siblings and mother. His smile, laughter, jokes.
During that trip we worked together as a team to improve Mamaw's house some. We scrubbed and cleaned; he crawled under the house and fixed the set up for the dishwasher; he installed the faucet I bought. All while spending what precious little time I unknowingly would have with him.
One of my fondest memories from the trip with him, was on the drive back to the airport when it was time to leave. My cousin was driving us to the airport and the song "From the Inside Out" by Phillips, Craig & Dean came on the radio. We sang it out loud together. That song now reminds me of that trip and that special moment with him praising our Lord.
On this trip, when I'd drive by certain things I'd remember having first driven by it with him. Just knowing he'd once been in that place was a comfort yet also painful. He was born in Jellico. I thought he loved it there, but my mom told me otherwise. He wanted out. I don't blame him. There is so much brokenness there. So much poverty, addictions, and a general attitude of having already given up on a better life. It's beautiful as far as nature goes, for sure. But the people all seem to be downcast.
While visiting my Mamaw and my aunt, there were moments I could see my dad in each of them. Their mannerisms, the way they talk, jokes they tell, looks they give all are incredibly similar to how he did things. Again, it was a comfort to see that and remember him but it was also painful. I wonder if they see him in themselves as clearly as I did.
Sometimes when I'm missing him, I look at and rub my hands. They are not like his, but my skin holds part of him in it...in my DNA. It's like he's not completely gone. Part of him remains in me. I try to see if my face holds any similarities, but unfortunately, only our blue eyes are similar.
It has gotten late and I'm unable to think of any clever way to wrap this up. So I'll just do it. The trip was well-worth it and I hope our kids will remember being able to go there and see where their Grandpa lived as a child. I would've loved to have him with us. His presence was definitely missed.
What a long week it was. It was great seeing my dad's side of the family, especially my Mamaw. However, we were ready to come home by the end of the week. The last time I was on the roads we drove down, was with my dad during our trip to Tennessee just a couple years earlier. My Mamaw had been sick and in the hospital. Since we didn't know if she'd pull through, I made the decision to accompany my dad who would be going to see her. I do not regret one second of that trip I took with him. I loved seeing him "in his element" which he definitely was when among his siblings and mother. His smile, laughter, jokes.
During that trip we worked together as a team to improve Mamaw's house some. We scrubbed and cleaned; he crawled under the house and fixed the set up for the dishwasher; he installed the faucet I bought. All while spending what precious little time I unknowingly would have with him.
One of my fondest memories from the trip with him, was on the drive back to the airport when it was time to leave. My cousin was driving us to the airport and the song "From the Inside Out" by Phillips, Craig & Dean came on the radio. We sang it out loud together. That song now reminds me of that trip and that special moment with him praising our Lord.
On this trip, when I'd drive by certain things I'd remember having first driven by it with him. Just knowing he'd once been in that place was a comfort yet also painful. He was born in Jellico. I thought he loved it there, but my mom told me otherwise. He wanted out. I don't blame him. There is so much brokenness there. So much poverty, addictions, and a general attitude of having already given up on a better life. It's beautiful as far as nature goes, for sure. But the people all seem to be downcast.
While visiting my Mamaw and my aunt, there were moments I could see my dad in each of them. Their mannerisms, the way they talk, jokes they tell, looks they give all are incredibly similar to how he did things. Again, it was a comfort to see that and remember him but it was also painful. I wonder if they see him in themselves as clearly as I did.
Sometimes when I'm missing him, I look at and rub my hands. They are not like his, but my skin holds part of him in it...in my DNA. It's like he's not completely gone. Part of him remains in me. I try to see if my face holds any similarities, but unfortunately, only our blue eyes are similar.
It has gotten late and I'm unable to think of any clever way to wrap this up. So I'll just do it. The trip was well-worth it and I hope our kids will remember being able to go there and see where their Grandpa lived as a child. I would've loved to have him with us. His presence was definitely missed.
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