Papa can you hear me?

I miss my dad

I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. Just this week there’s been a consultant from Australia staying with me who is in his mid 40’s or so and he has 2 daughters who you can tell he just adores. He gets this look in his eyes when he speaks about them; he is so proud of their teenage achievements and you can tell he’s enjoying being their dad now and can’t wait to enjoy watching them learn and grow. It’s really touching and I think its made me wistful about losing that particular unconditional love from my life.

When I was growing up, my dad used to ask me to sing for him- and for others like extended family and friends. I never would. I was always too shy; I wanted to shirk his pride – maybe because I felt I didn’t deserve it. I really wish I had indulged him a bit more. The old saying about not understanding exactly what you have until you lose it is so very true.

I miss my dad because he was a good man. He was wise and gentle and calm and if he didn’t know something – he would listen and learn. If he did know something, he would hold council but never shove something down your throat. Actually maybe I am placing him a little too high on a pedestal there; we always said his favourite phrases always began with “Now, what you should do….”!! But that’s exactly what I miss as well. I would have loved for him to be able to visit me here and have discussions about my thoughts and feelings about this place and this work. I would have loved to have heard the questions he would have asked – loved to be able to consider them carefully and see what he thought of my answers.

And right now, I would love his opinion on what I should do next. I’d love for him to teach me how to negotiate this path called life – the way he taught me to handle a car or learn the periodic table of elements. But now I’m laughing at myself because all I did when he was right there next to me teaching me those things was roll my eyes and wonder why I had to learn about the drive shaft rather than just starting the bloody car.. or why I had to make a silly riddle of something. If he were here and if I’d never lost him, I’d probably be complaining about the way he gives advice on everything.

I know he’s right here on my shoulder. And I know the gift he has given me is that he is the voice in my head that tells me to keep my cool or listen rather than speak – or walk a mile in someone else’s shoes. But gee I’d like to sing for him tonight. Or scratch his back and shoot the breeze a while.

And you know what? I can recite that bloody periodic table of elements because I still remember the way he taught me to do it. 24 years ago.

I think I’ll go and call my mum. It’s never too late to appreciate what you’ve got.