[personal profile] theoriginalblurker
Today is the 14th anniversary of the saddest day of my life.

Lately I've been aggravated that I don't have him around to ask questions. Stupid questions, like "what was basic training like?" I only have one real story about my dad's military service, and I think I probably heard it about 12 times. In this story, he asked for permission to take a car (a jeep?) away on a trip, and his CO left him with a completely disassembled vehicle saying, "Sure - if you can put it back together, you can have it for your trip." He learned a lot about cars that day, and yes, he put the thing back together - in working order. I always felt as though he wanted to try the same thing with me some day, but he never got the chance. I know his time in the air force was when he met my mother, had a deviated septum fixed, and did a lot of flying around the country playing baseball. Probably not in that order.

My dad loved to tell stories. Over and over. We all knew his stories, and had to (got to?) listen to them repeated when new people came around who had not yet heard them. As you might expect, it eventually became a running joke. Now I want to hear those stories again, but I also want to ask more questions about his life. And there's no one left to ask. Both of his brothers are dead, as well as his parents, and no one else remembers anything from that time.

I don't have any letters from him. I don't have any recordings of his voice. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I see parts of him in my face, but less so as I lose weight (isn't that amusing?). I see him in my bad knees, my love of food, my desire to know how the world works, and my sarcastic sense of humor. But I miss those stories. All the ones I've heard... and especially the ones I haven't.


ETA: No hugs, please.
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theoriginalblurker

July 2013

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