Last week my Dad drove with me to Ramona to go to the Tractor Supply store. It was raining out and I didn’t want him to sit at my house watching more of Fox News so I peeled him off of the couch. It was our first time at this store and we laughed as we were greeted with larger than life metal roosters. I turned to him and said, just what my new chicken coop needs…a life sized cock! We laughed and I then told him we should get one for Mom. He followed me around the store and after we found what I was looking for I surprised him with a drive up to Julian to get a slice of pie. As we started the slow drive up I told him what my plan was and he replied, “I was hoping”. I smiled. It was a quiet drive like it usually is these days. Unless we’re on the freeway and my Mom is in the backseat. Then there’s lots of grumbles of GD’s and MF’ers. When he isn’t spitting out grumbled obscenities I sometimes pretend like I know what he’s saying and other times I can make out our conversations. But most of the time it’s quiet. I replay his voice in my head as I look at the deep grey sky. I look at him, he looks at me and we smile. The winding road finally led us to Mom’s Pies. One of my favs. This visit was cold, a brisk 49º with nobody else in the place. I ordered our slices and cups of coffee. He smirked and said Mom was going to be mad we did this without her. I just laughed and told him that she should’ve gotten dressed sooner. As we ate our pie listening to the soft sound of 80’s music and the wind wrestling outside he had the cutest child-like grin. We left after fifteen minutes. As we walked out he thanked me for buying him pie and coffee. I joked again telling him the drive was worth every minute because it was one less minute of another brain cell dying because of Fox News. We looked at houses on our drive back down. I’d point at the cows in the pastures and he’d give me his cute “baby cow” and I immediately was placed back to our road trip through Texas two years ago.When we got back to the house life went back to normal. Rushing around, back to the grind. Fast forward to tonight. I cooked a meal that was supposed to be for all of us this weekend but I got too busy and my parents had to head home. The four of us sat down to watch the film, Rim of the World after dinner. The kids were so excited about it because “it’s where I’m from”. The film opened to what’s supposed to be Big Bear Lake. I told them that I hate to break it to you but I think that’s Mammoth. Of course I was right because I know Twin Lakes. It’s not that I tried to be a know-it-all but I dream of Twin Lakes. A few months ago I planned a camping trip for our entire family this Summer. After we took my parents to Vegas my Mom told my sister and I that there was no way that Dad could handle this trip and we’d have to go alone. I was devastated. I wanted my kids to experience Mammoth during the Summer like I did almost every Summer growing up. As we watched the movie I got sad. I made comments about our cancelled trip and the kids made comments how they were so glad they didn’t have to go. Because I can’t deal with emotional situations right now I got in the hottest shower and just silently cried. I didn’t let out a peep. But I mourned my Dad. My Dad that’s still living, but gone. It’s so unrealistic that I thought a camping trip would bring my Dad back. I wanted the crisp mountain air surrounded by a campfire to fill my lungs. I wanted my kids to run around the campsite with their cousins to adventure just like my sister and I did with our cousins. I wanted my Dad to have one last camping trip. I wanted to see him on a boat with Rainbow Falls behind him putting bait on a hook. I want him to be happy. What I realized tonight is that it won’t happen. I lost that Dad three years ago. It’s so fucking difficult having my Dad here but not here. I wished three years ago on my birthday to hear him talk. To hear him say, “Happy Birthday”. My wish has never come true and it never will. I have an angry version of my Dad filled with sweet moments and memories intertwined like highway 67. As much as I want a perfect outcome God has other plans, other difficult situations to test us with. Why our test, or my Dad’s last years have to burdened with no voice is beside me. But he was given time…because he and I needed more time. I might not have the strong man I remember as I child but I now have the strong Papa version who wakes up each day, drinks his coffee, laughs like a four-year-old, cries like a two-year-old, is able to give me a groggy I LOVE YOU and hug. One day I won’t have either. I am thankful for the sweet moments and reminders. Just like I needed pie that day.
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