Dad... What can I say?
It's a tough one - writing about him. I love him, of course, but he's just so difficult to be around sometimes. He's so moody and thinks he knows the best about everything, that it's tough sometimes just to go to the store with him. He'll tell you you're closing the door too hard, and that it will break the door eventually. He tells you your going to fast - or slow - or that you are too quick on the clutch - or that you shouldn't have stopped at that stop sign - and then where to park and how to park. This happens every. single. time. we go somewhere.
So it's tough sometimes - showing him the love you have for him when you're with him.
But love him I do.
In the past few years, he's really turned to me for conversation. He doesn't really have friends - and although he lives with my mom, my sister, and his granddaughter, he doesn't feel like he can talk to them. They're females - and what does he have to say to them?
So he pulls me downstairs to show me his latest models (of course, they are all boxed up and put away), talk about cars, and show me the kind of deals he's gotten lately (he has, probably, twenty .50 cent watches he's purchased at garage sales). He teaches me how to charge un-rechargeable batteries (not a good thing), how to paint models using a home-made spray box, and rummages through cut-outs of magazine and newspaper articles he saves about cars and random stuff.
He has a serious desire to teach me things. He always wanted me to learn how to fix cars (he was a mechanic), work with wood, and build things for myself. I think because he was always so difficult - I didn't want to learn. Because no matter what he tried to teach you - you were never really good enough, and the critiques became endless.
I remember going to him time and again to show him my latest drawings. Every once in a while, he would nod and smile (and make my day) - but most of the time he would tell me it wasn't good enough.
Even the other day, he came over for dinner, and told me that the photos we have all over the walls just don't cut it. He told me "you have to do something different! Those look like they were from the 70's."
Now... you have to take that with a grain of salt. His eyes are so bad I seriously doubt he even knew what the subject matter was. Yet it hurt all the same.
My father. He's a tough one to get along with... but there will be a day when I miss his nagging and his desire to teach me more. Maybe I need to take the time to let him teach me a few things - wrong or not - and cherish the small moments that will always be with me.
