No Room in the Mud

The other day, I got off from work and headed over to Academy for a new pair of shoes. I'd been talking to a friend, and he asked me what type of shoes I was getting. I told him I only owned two types (Crocs, and running shoes!) He suggested a pair of heels. I looked at my phone with disgust and managed to set it safely back down on the center console of the car without chunking it out the window. It's not his fault. He doesn't know me, entirely. Seriously, though.... Heels?! **gag**

So the conversation continued... when was the last time I dressed up? Why don't I dress up? What if I was going somewhere that required me to look "presentable?" All very valid questions, mind you. However, anyone that has ever known me, knows that I've never fit into one of societies molds. WHY do I have to dress up? "Do it for you!" They said... But why? I don't like it. Why would I force myself to do something I don't like? I can't stand dresses... I can't stand strappy sandles with dangly jewels... I can't stand makeup. I can't stand wearing my hair down... (My poor husband, I know.) I'm sure he'd appreciate seeing me be feminine from time to time.

I've heard that "Dressing up begins at age five, and never truly ends." I don't think I got that gene. Shopping puts me in a horrible mood - unless I'm shopping for someone else. I absolutely LOVED serving in the military. For 12 years, I knew exactly what I'd wear from one day to the next. My closet was lined in uniforms and pajama pants. And for the days when I absolutely HAD to wear something else, I had blue jeans and hoodies. (still do.)

There's no room in the mud for glitter. I love rainy, Saturday mornings... when I can throw on some sweats and old sneakers and grab the dog and take off for a walk and let the Lord cleanse me. I avoid places with dress codes that require skimpy black dresses and heels. I'm beyond blessed to have a job that doesn't require hairspray and perfume. For as long as I can remember, I've preferred dirt under my nails, rough skin on the bottom of my feet, and the idea that whoever would fall in love with me - would do so for what is inside of me rather than what I look like if I do or don't dress up. (Cause I'm pretty freakin' awesome, if you take the time to know me.)

I Will Not Dwell...

November, 1995. He went in for testing, and we found out that he had lung cancer. The doctor gave him 4-6 months. He fought aggressively with chemo and radiation. He lost his hair, and he lost weight. He did it gracefully, with a smile on his face. I had every reason to believe that this cancer would disappear, because he was my SuperMan. NOTHING was going to take him away from me. It couldn't, possibly.

He finished all his medicine... he never skipped a treatment.... and we waited for the phone call from the doctor, as a child waits for a report card after 6 long weeks of giving his best effort. The phone call came, and the news was bad. Treatment hadn't worked.

I do remember curling up in the back of the car and crying until it hurt. I remember finding places to go and reasons to stay away from the house. I wasn't angry with him for dying - but I couldn't bear to watch it happen. He did try to talk to me about it all, but I didn't want to talk. Perhaps this is my greatest regret... leaving him to die, without me.

I will not dwell on the final days of his life. I'm doing my best to forget the details of his last night with us. Instead, I will constantly focus on the dream I had 2 weeks after he passed. In the dream, I was laying in my bed and yearning so deeply for his presence. My mother called out to me from the kitchen and told me to "come here." I reluctantly got out of bed, opened my bedroom door, and turned the corner to find my father there on his knees. He opened his arms to take me into them. I was dumbfounded! He was beautiful... young, a head full of hair, his moustache back. I asked what... how... if he was here to stay!!? I will never forget his words, ever... "Oh baby, I'm not here to stay. I only wanted to let you know that I made it, and I'm ok." And he hugged me so tight, kissed my cheeks, tickled my face with his moustache... and we said goodbye.

I will live out my forever... and I will keep faith that he is waiting for me :)

The Second Time Around

I was more than blessed with the best daddy in the whole world. Something I heard recently really hit home... he gave me an eternity in his numbered days. Boy, isn't that the truth?!

I have to set this time aside, though, to let the world know that without fail, I've secured the rest of my days with someone who has managed to fill my father's shoes. That was a seemingly impossible feat, but it has been done!

Carnivals

Cuddles

Lacing up ice skates

Setting sail in the North Sea

Teaching them to fly

Showing them the sights

Taking in the love

Carrying the weary

Simply being

Oceanside in France

Keeping them upright

Already a hero

Carrying on tradition 

Teaching them balance

Sharing nature

Celebrating holidays

no comment...

 

Welcoming his last born

Telling her how it's gonna be

The best daddy he can possibly be!

Not afraid of his feminine side

Happy Daddy's Day, my handsome love

My life is as complete as it's ever going to get... Thank you, God, for giving me my dad this second time around. I love you, Nicolas Durgeat!

Father is too formal

The term father.... it's too formal. I didn't have a father. Father's are corporate businessmen in suits and ties who parent their cell phones and provide for their children only monetarily. That's how the term father feels, to me.  No... I didn't have a father.

I had a daddy.

and oh, how I LOVED him!

My daddy took me camping... he taught me how to fish... he taught me how to drive... he cooked great steak and baked potatoes! He loved sweet tea and Dr. Pepper. He had wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from smiling, all the time. He loved hunting. I loved going hunting with him. We laid in the back of the truck and counted stars together. We'd have in depth conversations about current events. We'd watch 20/20 and 48 Hours together and talk about the things we'd seen. We'd drive backroads and count deer and take in the sunset, and analyze its beauty. He was the breath in my soul, the beat in my heart. A huge part of me died inside when he left this Earth.

He died 18 years ago, last month. How is it possible that my heart continues to beat without him? I've been so blessed with a new family... a husband who reminds me of my father in every possible way... a large extended family of sisters and brothers and nephews... All to help fill the void that he has left. They do a wonderful job, but there's still such a dark void inside that will never be completely filled. He meant just that much to me.

Happy Daddy's Day, to the absolute biggest hero, best friend, first love of my life. You're my reason for everything. I love you, and I miss you tremendously.