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Where the Sidewalk Ends and the Road Begins




I was 6 years old and my dad threw his arms in the air, yelling (what should have been singing) "Where the Sidewalk Ends" by George Strait, while in the middle of the bathing suit isle in Wal-mart. How I remember this, I could not tell you. But, that song has such an important place in my heart and brings tears to my eyes every time I hear it. It doesn't have somber lyrics and isn't about a love story; it's just a memory that really hits home. He used to sing it to me all the time (mostly just to embarrass me in public places). He was an incredible man who danced to the beat of his own drum.

As an only child you can assume that I was a daddy's girl and couldn't get enough of his attention. Although I was his little girl, we wrestled as if I were a boy fighting for the t.v remote. I used to go to school with bruises on my arms from our wrestling matches and basketball games. Teachers and friends would ask me what happened, and as if it were normal I would just shrug and say, "Oh, it's just from my dad." You can imagine the faces I got.

I walked in the door last night after a long day at work, and the first thing I said was, "my feet hurt, my backs hurts, and I need a drink." When did I start being such a baby? My dad would have laughed in my face, pushed me on my shoulder and said, "Wild thing! Stop being such a wussy baby!" You know, he really used to get me fired up. He'd poke and pry until I gave in and started screaming. We fought like two kids, always chasing each other around, taunting one another. My mom would get so paranoid one of us would break something in the house.. Which we did pretty often. One of my favorite photographs I have of him and I was Thanksgiving when I was around 9 or 10, standing at our lovely dining table in front of all the delicious food my mom cooked, with his hands around my neck as if he was strangling me, and my tongue sticking out, gasping for air (it's an old one, but I think I can find it). He was my best friend, we shared such a unique bond-- one where we could be completely honest with each other and know that no matter what, we'd love each other unconditionally.

In high school most people I knew were too cool for their parents, but every day after class I called my dad just to tell him about my day. I'm not exaggerating, I literally called him everyday; and if I forgot, he would call me. During that time he was living in Miami and I wasn't seeing him but every two weeks or so. I got so used to the phone calls and the trips to visit him that once he was gone I almost felt lost.

A few weeks ago I did some spring cleaning and made myself go through his boxes. I broke down, yelled, cried, laughed, and touched every single one of his things as if to say goodbye all over again. His clothes still had his smell and it hurt.. It really hurt. It brought back all the memories of him; too many to type. He was my inspiration, everything I wanted to be in life. His outlook on living was simply wonderful. He used to tell me, "You have your whole life to work, let's do something fun."
I read through some of the cards I received from his friends and felt such a warm feeling come over me. Just when I was starting to doubt the memories of him, their words brought them right back to life. Most of them went on to say that he never knew a stranger and he was the best friend they had ever had, and I believe it wholeheartedly. He never made a promise he couldn't keep, and he went out of his way (too many times) to help other people. I wish my words could give you a little more insight about who he was, but really, no words could ever describe the type of man he was. He was a genuine old-time cowboy, a comedian, the tough guy, a boater, an outdoorsmen who loved the warmness of Florida, liked to think he was a pirate, a best friend, a hero, and above all, he couldn't be duplicated-- he was MY dad, and I couldn't be more fortunate to have had him in my life for the time that I did.

Although this is my fourth father's day without him physically, in my heart he's been here all along. And that's the "cat's ass."

Comments

  1. Leah The OrdinaryJune 20, 2010 at 1:36 PM

    You know what's crazy? My dad's birthday is January 11, or 1/11, and this post was posted at 1:11 PM.. I didn't notice until now.

    ReplyDelete
  2. anduhboomJune 20, 2010 at 2:42 PM

    you have me bawling at work. i love you, leah.

    ReplyDelete
  3. UnknownJune 21, 2010 at 9:56 AM

    Leah! That was beautiful!

    ReplyDelete
  4. jenamendolaJune 24, 2010 at 12:00 AM

    you made me cry. you are such an amazing person Leah Dremel, I've never met any one like you before.
    ♥

    ReplyDelete

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