Just Write–everything {89}

June 17, 2013

There’s too much to say and nothing to say. There’s pain and a heavy heart in watching my parents drive away on Saturday, Nanny and Bapa and Auntie Kay riding away in a white car, and the five of us–our little King family–standing on a new-to-us sidewalk, waving back.

There’s not enough time to say any of all that’s changed and happened and there’s all the time in the world.

Ryan made dinner  last night. Asher said the dinner was burned and he was sitting there not eating it while Miles was trying to convince him that it was awesome. They’re both exhausted. They play and play and play and play with new neighbor friends.

They play everything and nothing, as many hours as they can fit inside one day. Like it’s their job.

Later in the day, after our family left, we went to Goodwill. On the way in, a woman told Ryan that she loved watching how he treated his kids, and she said whenever she sees a good dad, it chokes her up because her dad is a good dad and he’s far away. She had tears in her eyes and I had to look away because I wanted to cry about my dad too. She told Ryan that it’s so good to see a dad like him because he’s the kind of dad that isn’t that common. Of course, for all she really knew, Ryan The Stranger To Her could have been a serial killer and she could be guessing wrong. But her gut was right. This man is a really good father, my husband.

She told him Happy Father’s Day and we thanked her.

She had very very long blonde hair and it fell all the way to her waist. She was wearing big sunglasses and when she took them off she was trying not to cry for her dad.

I told my sister I don’t know how it’s possible that I’m still such a little girl. I know I am because it was so hard to say goodbye to my parents. She said we will always be partially little girls and I said yeah, that’s okay.

Sure is! She said.

I mean, look at that long-haired woman walking around missing her dad and crying. She’s a little girl. It’s good to love like that.

It takes help and we’ll never be done and that’s okay. It’s everything and nothing, to keep going in new things and old things while being totally fine and totally not fine. Always both and needing a Daddy.

On Sunday I called and said Happy Father’s Day. Then I added, I got you a heartache! because we try to make sad things funny sometimes. Like coming up for air.

We both laughed and he said, Yes, you did. 

That’s horrible, I said. Ugh.

Oh well, he said, whatcha gonna do? I could tell he was trying to help me not feel guilty.

I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, Dad. I’m going to walk around always grateful that you are one of the uncommon ones. I’m going to tell strangers that my dad is the best. And I’ll probably cry every time, for everything.

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{ 10 comments }

Sidnie June 17, 2013 at 9:16 pm

When I realized I was a still a little girl, I was all the way in Germany… living a rather grown up life. My mom and I would always declare, “Happy Birthday!” just like Frosty the Snowman when the phone conversations grew sad or weary, or our hearts were hurting.
Sometimes, a well-timed joke is all we really need…
Sidnie recently posted..There’s a ghost in my living room.

Sarah @ Toddler Summer June 17, 2013 at 9:39 pm

Something happens every once in a while to show us all that we are still “little.”
Sarah @ Toddler Summer recently posted..Mom Guilt Tastes Like m&ms

Elaine A. June 17, 2013 at 11:03 pm

The relationship between daughters and Dads is so special. I am my father’s only daughter and I feel extra special because of it. I love the way you to talked on the phone…

Happy (belated) Father’s Day to your Dad and your husband.
Elaine A. recently posted..MJ and old Things (including me)

Kat June 18, 2013 at 12:50 am

You are making me bawl. I just miss my dad so much these days. I wish I could hear his voice again. He was in my dream the other night. Only, I knew it wasn’t a dream. He was saying “hi”. It was awesome.
Still. I miss him. He was definitely one of the rare ones.
Aren’t we lucky, though? :)
Kat recently posted..Tiny Ballerina

Jamie@SouthMainMuse June 18, 2013 at 7:19 am

Though I have a tendency to moan about what age does to the body — I enjoy how I will stop and say what I’m thinking to complete strangers. Just like that woman did to Ryan. His actions must have touched her. That is huge. This was the first Father’s Day without my dad. It made me realize how he certainly wasn’t perfect — he was a wonderful father. And he loved me so. Be so thankful that it sounds like you have that kind of father too. And I’m sure you are.
Jamie@SouthMainMuse recently posted..Taking my daughter to camp on Father’s Day. Or letting go with Stickum on your palm.

thekitchwitch June 18, 2013 at 8:40 am

If you haven’t already, read the piece “Eleven” by Sandra Cisneros. Really. Google it now if you haven’t read it. It explains the little girl inside of us so beautifully. You won’t be sorry.
thekitchwitch recently posted..Cajun Assholery: Tres Version

Jennifer June 18, 2013 at 10:11 am

I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it is what you are doing, and I’m sorry for that. But I’m happy for all of the amazing things that will happen in return.
Jennifer recently posted..Great Expectation

Jenn June 18, 2013 at 2:05 pm

I know what you mean about missing your dad. I miss mine all the time, and get sad when I think about the fact that we only see each other a handful of times a year. We only have so much time, which is why we try our best to make the best of the time we have together.

xoxo
Jenn recently posted..Back to Normal Life

robin June 18, 2013 at 2:36 pm

I think being in touch with the fact that we are still “little girls” helps us teach our kids to love, and show them it’s ok to always be little girls (and boys) themselves, because isn’t that what we want as parents, too? We want them to grow up and be strong, but always have a soft side for us. <3

Arnebya June 23, 2013 at 9:05 am

This, exactly: “It takes help and we’ll never be done and that’s okay.” I love my dad. He wasn’t around much of my childhood, but he has more than made up for that in the way he interacts with my kids, and is there for me. I HATE HE HAS TO BE THERE FOR ME financially, so often, but it takes help and we’ll never be done and that’s okay. So, the next time I’m lamenting having to ask him for help and I’m almost 40 and feel like I should have my everything together and not “need” help, I’ll remember this.
Arnebya recently posted..I Don’t Wanna

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