I can remember my dad carrying me on his shoulders & feeling like nothing in the world could stop me. I remember standing at the stove while he taught me the secret of "perfect" Kraft Dinner. I remember his laugh, his smile. I can still hear him asking me, "Who's #1?" I know I never felt more special than when he called me Margaret May, like we were the only members of a secret club. I remember people telling me at his funeral how proud he was of me, and wishing I had been able to feel it. My fondest memory of my dad is from 4th grade. I exited the classroom to see him standing in the hall, jumped into his arms & he carried me out. I don't remember what we said, I just remember how elated I was that MY dad was there. To pick me up from school. I felt whole.
I remember feeling like Rob was the first person in the world to treat me like a person. Not a child. I remember dancing with him. He was the first person to take me to a bar, in Trail of all places. Rob taught me how to cook, how to water ski and he attempted to teach me how to spit and how to knee board. I remember camping with him, how he'd always let me stay up late with the grown ups. Well, later than the other kids at least. I remember working with him, busting my ass so I wouldn't be one of the FNG's he was always ragging on. I can remember every time he'd introduce me as his daughter, how my heart would swell not only at his public claiming of me, but also of people's acceptance. With an attitude like mine, no question where I belonged. I can remember Rob being there for me, talking me through heart break, sitting through dance recitals, high school, and all the drama that comes with being a teen aged girl. I remember him telling me that Matthew was special, that what we had was different. Rob taught me to never be afraid to try, to do my best, to strive to always be myself, and if that failed, "Fuck 'em feed 'em fish."
I was angry for a long time. Angry at my dad for not being there, angry at Rob for being there, angry for the sake of being angry.
Sometimes it hurts to be the girl without a father.
But most days now, I'm able to see that I was blessed not once, but twice in my life. Both of these men taught me lessons in their own way. I only wish I had learned this sooner so I could thank them.
