I miss my dad. Thursday, May 17 2007

I miss my dad.

I miss being able to pick up the phone, and hear his voice. Just a simple thing.

I miss seeing him alive. period.

I miss having his body near me, sitting at the movies, across the table, on the couch.

I miss looking in his steel aqua blue eyes.

I miss looking at his hook nose, so proud and his blonde eye brows.

I miss his Jack Nicholas smile.

I miss his wicked, dry scense of humor.

I miss his snoring.

I miss his smell.

I miss looking at the back of his head, memorizing his hairline when he was driving.

I miss hearing him go to the bathroom.

I miss hearing his laugh.

I miss looking at his big, swollen tough hands.

I miss his articulate boxy letters, when he wrote.

I miss looking at his blonde short eye lashes.

I miss his sun spots.

I miss his moods, and his strange ‘far-away’ looks.

I miss seeing him interacting with people.

I miss watching him eat.

I miss every single thing about him from head to toe. I could recreate

him here and now if I had to.

I was on my way to a wedding in Georgia this weekend. I got a call today to say that it will not be happening. The bride’s father, who was also the minister and the one performing the cerimony died of a heart attack days before the wedding. That poor family. That poor girl.

I wonder, did she get to say good-by?

Was her dad scared before he took his last breath, like my dad was? Did he call for her, like my dad did? Did she get to hold his hand one last time? Oh, the things we take for granted. Oh, the pain of being a human. The best console we can have is knowing we will be with them again in eternity~whatever that looks like. I wish them the best. And all the love in the world that I can offer.

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“The only pumpkin we have..” Friday, May 11 2007

That is what my dad used to say as I was walking next to him, holding his hand.  Amazing coming from a man that was raised in a military school. But he has learned to love, and deeply at that. Or he always have, and he learned how to communicate it. Whatever the case, I let my dady love me off and on my whole life. If I could do it all over again, I would let him love me all the time, without restrictions or conditions.

If I could speak to him now, this is what I would say,

“Dad,

I never knew those three letters could mean so much. I want to first and foremost let you know that I am happy. That is every parent’s only wish for their child, beyond anything else~to be happy. I am on the road I chose, the one I want to be on. I know you would be happy for me that I am pursuing films, what you loved, admired, studied, and adored your whole life. I know you would be happy that I am strong, and I am always learning. I don’t know if you would be so understanding about me having five children. But, when you see that I am being powerful about it, you would be proud. That I am raising my daughters and my son to be thinkers, and to express themselves. To be at the source of their life. You would be proud. To have you lay your eyes on me one last time, that look, that twinkle. That unbelievable ability to make me feel 10 feet tall and the most beautiful woman in the world. With one look. Your steel blue eyes that I looked into my whole life. I would give anything to look into them again. To touch you one more time, not the cold lifeless body that I tried to warm up. The one when you were thriving. Breathing. What we all take for granted, it seems. I know you  would be happy that I am living life to the fullest. I have big, big, plans dad. I’ll tell you some day. And then we will meet again. Someday, I will stand in front of you, and smile, “The ride is over, dad. Thanks for being apart of it. Thank you for choosing my mom to have me.” And you will smile. Thank you for giving me life. I love you.”

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My dad Thursday, May 3 2007

The most complicated man I have ever known.

He was an inventor’s son. His father, Robert Ellis Miller married Hedda Hopper’s niece, Jane Fury. His step brother was cheif of police for Burbank, his other step brother is an talented iron artist. There was three generations that worked at Lockeed Int, making jets and airplains. He descided to become a bus-driver, after leaving Lockeed. He became a tour bus driver. Starting his 35 year career at Star Line Bus Tours in Hollywood, Ca with the original owners.

This is where my story truelly begins because this where I spent most of my time with him, at work. He would pick me up in this glorified 40 ft tour bus, at school, at home. I would hear the rumble of the engine anywhere on the streets, and the air brakes would come to a hault. I knew that sound like a lullaby sung to me everyday. My heart flew to my throat as I excitedly ran outside and as he opened the side door manually in the early years I would be jumping up and down waiting to get into the cool airconditioned bus, feeling the grooved rubber black matted steps under my dirty barefeet. I must have been 8 when I bagn to remember these unannounced visits. I would look up to see this big, round jolly looking man, when his ruddy complexion, a smile and a twinkle in his eye.

This is my dad. He loved me more than I can ever know. I was his only child that he raised, but he did have a daughter years before with an early love affair right out of highschool. The baby girl was given up for adoption. I would never meet my sister.

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