Momma T's Mighty Murphys: January 8, 2010: Dad

My dad died 18 years ago today. Sometime in the past year, I passed the point where I have now lived more of my life without him than with him. I'm the lucky one; Tim and Trish both passed it a few years back.

I've never written about my dad dying, so I thought long and hard about this post and what I should write to honor him and the anniversary of his last day and how it should be the very best thing I've ever put to paper/internet. I tried, but apparently, I'm still not ready to think about that day or to, in any way, relive it. So, instead, here's a few things that I can say. They are not artful or lovely or insightful, but they are true.

My dad drove a gray Chevy hatchback that smelled faintly like cigarettes and coffee and strongly like Wrigley spearmint gum.

My dad always had room for me in his orange recliner.

My dad laughed his butt off when I asked for directions somewhere and he told me to take hwy 151 and I asked him if that was "the big road that led to the mall."

My dad used to ask me, when I was little, how I could possibly like McDonald's hamburgers better than the ones he made on the grill.

My dad wore Rockport shoes because they helped his bad back. He even wore them when he ran during seventh grade girls' basketball practice.

My dad loved that strange little song, "I want money ... lots and lots of money .... I want the pie in the sky." He also liked, "Don't Worry. Be Happy."

My dad had huge forearms, chubby feet and fingers, and a large chin dimple. (I've been blessed with the dimple and the chubby feet and fingers, but spared the forearms).

My dad could hold his breath underwater for an unusually long time.

My dad used to say that the best way to hit a baseball or softball was to swing so you'd take the pitcher's head off.

My dad called me "motormouth" and my sister "Trishie-boom." (I think I got the short end of that stick.)

My dad would play touch football on the side of our yard with all the neighborhood kids, but he always called "all time quarterback" because of his bad back. (He may not have been wearing the Rockports.)

My dad really, really, really loved the women in his life - his mom, his sisters, his wife, his daughters, his sisters-in-law, his nieces. We were adored, even when he was harassing us.

My dad is still my brother's very best friend.

So, I've shed a few tears writing this, which is good. He deserves that. I miss him every day. As I get older, I miss him for different reasons. Ryan, Maguire, and Gan miss the chance to have known him. I have no doubt Ronan will feel the same way when he's older.

As a parting note, I'm attaching a little something my sister and brother-in-law had a hand in a while back. It's lighthearted and funny and so very true about my dad. It'll make you smile.