Father's Day 2012.... @#$%!

Dad and "Conehead": Summer 2000

As I've told many of my friends and family over the past year, I'm never emotional about my Dad's passing when I "should" be; the times that people expect you to be distraught. I find myself pensive, emotional, and forlorn when I least expect it. Sitting at my desk in the middle of the day, driving to work at 9:50 at night, or at 4:00am after I've had a dream about him.... and almost always alone. Maybe I'm protecting others from seeing me the way I get or maybe in the company of others I'm placated... I don't know.

But today I find myself alone with some time. And after reading everyone's postings and tributes to their Dads on this Father's Day, it's struck me.... and I'm very affected. And I have mixed emotions about the fact that it's happened when it "should." I miss my Dad, dammit. I always feel like swearing when I say that because I'm still pissed that he's gone. It's fucking bullshit.

But I'll move on and try to refrain from further filling the Internet with curse words and profanity. Isn't there enough already? I agree.

The photo above is of a summer visit I made to Paradise to see my Dad during the summer of 2000, I think. My Dad would have been 50 yrs old and I would have been 23. (I can only guess by how new that shirt looks and how skinny I was.) I found that shirt while at a Savers in Orem, UT with my friend Mike Pionke. the movie it's from is nothing special, but "Conehead" was my Dad's nickname for me, which he called me all the time, usually on a day like today. I'd call him on the phone and it'd go like this:

(ring)
Dad: Hello.
Me: Hey Dad, what's up?
Dad: Who is this?
Me: Your son? Craig?
Dad: Oh, Conehead?
Me: Yup.
Dad CONEHEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!
Me That's me.

At the time, it made me think he was such a dork, but I'll be damned if I wouldn't give everything I have to hear it again.

I've been telling lots of stories about him recently... like how he called everything "world famous." His "World Famous" potato salad... that maybe 25 people even knew existed. Or how whenever we pulled up alongside a hot-rod or classic car he appreciated he'd honk the horn and give the driver a big "thumbs up." Or how he gave a $500 donation to a Secret Santa project I organized one year (the biggest single donation by about 5 times), but NEVER, EVER touch the pie in the fridge, CAUSE IT'S HIS!!!

My Dad loved me and all his kids. He was a tender soul with a frightening defense mechanism, but I loved him. Like all our Dads, he represented exactly what I did and didn't want to become. Unlike some Dads, however, he stuck around and saw it through. He never abandoned his family and gave much of his life to his role as a Father. I should hope to become so selfless.

I don't get to call him today, but I hope somehow he still knows that I love him and I'm so glad he's MY DAD. He made me who I am and I honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

I LOVE YOU, DAD!

I MISS YOU SO MUCH.

-Craig, "Conehead," "Goose"