Memories

Everyone has memories.  No matter how hard you try memories follow you.  Some can be good or some, the ones you try to lose along the way, can be bad.  Like anyone else my good memories are the ones that I share with friends, family, my kids so they can become part of their memories.

I lost my dad when I was 22.  It was a tragic moment in my life.  A moment that only took a second to happen but a lifetime to overcome.  I still to this day struggle with the fact that he's not here or that my kids wont have the privilege or the honor of knowing him.  Sometimes when I see people that did get to know him, people that weren't family.  It makes me angry and jealous to know they got to make memories of my dad and my kids wont.  My dad is and was the best mad I have ever known.  My husband is the close second.  I think that's one reason I love my husband so much.  He reminds me of my dad.  They are both great men who take care of their own.  Neither one of them would ever put their needs above their family.
My dad lived with a sickness that slowly ate away at him for nearly 14 yrs, but you would have never known it.  He still stood strong up until the day he died.

I really don't know why I'm writing this post, or how to go about it.  There has been so many things that have  been making me think of my dad recently.  All it takes is one thing one person to slap you in the face of the reality that hes gone and he isn't coming back.................  OK up until now I've written this post with little to no effort.  But now I have typed and deleted this line like a million times.  I'm trying not offend anyone or give away to much information.  But to hell with that.  I'm pissed about something I had found out last night.  something that in a couple years from now I'll think back and think why in the world did you get so mad about that.  Its all material things.  There was no need for you to focus on it like that.  But that's years from now and I am and will be pissed until then.  We gave my Uncle my dads truck after he passed.  He cried when we gave it to him, we cried when we gave it to him.  He told us he would keep it forever and if the day ever came that he had to get rid of it he would call us first and foremost.  Well the day came for him to get rid of it and poof its gone.  No phone call nothing, and the only reason I found out was by pure accident.  Now I know I shouldn't fret over the small stuff but I am.  I know it was just a truck.  But to me it was my dad in a sense.  The last thing of my dad.  The last thing I could physically touch of him.  But now all I have are my memories.  It's been almost 7 yrs since my dad has died and it still hurts.  My memories are all I have of him and memories get blurry.  But telling my story, passing along the memories to who ever will listen are the way to keep my memories alive.  My kids may not have had the ability of meeting my dad but the will have the second best thing.  Stories of how and who he was, not only from me but from anyone that has ever crossed paths with him.