I didn't really get to know my dad until I had had enough of my mom. I moved in with my dad and his wife when I was 18 years old. They had been married for several years and this was the first time that I would be spending more than just a weekend with them: my dad, his wife, and their daughter- my 1/2 sister.
I'm 18- I'm not a child and I don't need parents but I do want a place to belong.
I didn't occur to me until we were watching Saturday Night Live that funny was the place to belong. My dad and I would laugh- at the same things. We would laugh at them the same way.
I loud 'aah' from the abdomen that made a quick entrance into the room followed a gasp for air, a snort, and a final 'aaaah' that is low and relaxing that would bring the head back to neutral after having been thrown to the shoulder blades. Extended chuckles usually result in wiping tears from the eyes or a hand placed on the aching back.
Every once in a while it sneaks up on me- I'll truly 'get a kick' out of something and the sound that comes from my soul is more of my fathers than it seems to be of my own. It has the same pitch, tone, depth, and breadth that I have heard from him long before I heard it from myself and I am reminded of my beloved daddio.
He doesn't always tell me that he loves me when we get off the phone and I don't know that I need it as much now as I did when I was younger but I fear that I won't get the opportunity to hear it again, unlike when I was younger and just wanted the reassurance.
Happy Father's Day- hoping that we find the best of the men in our lives, somewhere in the best of us.