From Pillar Number Two To Pillar Number One

Happy Birthday, Daddy. I know it isn’t till tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait.

We’re not gonna get all mushy, like we did last year. It was nice, but I’m just not feeling the syrup this year. You’d like this better, anyway.

After leaving two or three half frantic and half lonely sad pants messages for you last week, you finally called me back. Just when I was starting to get all kinds of hurt and irritated about our lack of communication, you inadvertently reminded me that we work opposite schedules, by telling me that you took a half day just to call me back and to hang out with the dog.

We talked for almost two hours, and for three quarters of that time, you were sober enough to be coherent. While some might think that was awfully sad, I was actually grateful. Grateful that you were kicking a good enough buzz when you called to really talk, and grateful to stay on the phone with you until I was pretty sure the only thing you could manage to do was stumble into bed.

I posted about you for TMI Thursday last week, and a few people misunderstood me? They thought I had problems with you not having any boundaries. I guess they missed the love and affection pouring forth from my post. We both know that you’ve horrified and embarrassed me my whole life. We also both know that it has not diminished my adoration of you, not one iota.

You said some things last week that I really, really needed to hear. Not from just anyone. From you. You might not remember, so I’ll review for you. You told me that I am a pillar of this family. That you are the Number One Pillar and I am the Number Two Pillar. I really needed that, Daddy, and not just the recognition of my place in the family, but your recognition that I am still Number Two Pillar, and that you, my crazyfaceliquorbreathsuperhero Dad, is still standing guard for us. Because a world without my Number One Pillar? Is a world I don’t wanna live in. The only thing that could screw me harder than losing you right now would be losing MH.

While we’re on the subject of MH, I want to thank you for loving him, even in your weirdo, twisted, of course I love you, I’ve tried to beat you, haven’t I? kinda way. I also want to thank you for slowly but surely coming to accept that my husband is the primary man in my life, and that it’s good and normal and okay. I know it was hard, but it was worth it.

I digress. You said last week that you’re grateful for me because you can talk to me, and that you used to talk to your Mom, and that sometimes you can talk to your sister, but that I’m really the only person that you can really talk to. I don’t think this is good for you, especially based on how often we (don’t) really talk, but it makes me feel like the special-est Daddy’s Girl Princess in the whole wide world, and I love that.

You’re right- we are more alike than we are different. What I think is funny is that you attribute my emotional intensity to Mom’s genes and influence. We both know there is enough heat and light in her reactions to fool a lot of people, and we also both know that every bit of that emotion, that passion and intensity, is all yours. I’m a woman, and so I can embrace it. You don’t have that luxury, so you hide it, but you’re not fooling me.

The last thing you said was that we don’t see each other enough. Well, Amen to that! No, we don’t see each other enough, and I’m all set to fix that this year, now that I have 6.5% less money and 50% more vacation time. Oh, and you’re buying.

Just so you and everyone else understands- I am critical of you and your drinking, and I have not always appreciated your home crafted lessons in humility and humbleness. However. I only stopped adoring you for about six months when I was 16 and between when you and MH fought and you finally apologized. I have always been and will always be a Daddy’s Girl, and the parts of you I despise I only despise because they either make you puke or remind me of my own flaws and bad habits.

You and me? We’re like peanut butter- you’re crunchy and I’m hint of honey- but it’s all just peanuts in the end.

Happy Birthday, Daddy.

7 Responses

  1. very sweet 🙂

  2. Very sweet indeed. Sugared peanuts. Happy Birthday, sir.

  3. I’m officially in love with your father. Not THAT WAY, but, yanno.

    Happy Birthday, Papa Cat!

  4. While I still think that your dad may possibly be the craziest SOB I have ever met, I have never doubted his love for you. I watched his pain as we got closer and watched his joy when he realized that it didn’t mean you didn’t love him anymore. I have a lot of beefs with you’re old man, but I will never doubt how much he cares for the two of us and you in particular. He would kill for you, and we both know that’s not just a saying!
    You are very lucky to have the relationship that you have with him and I don’t think that will ever be broken. I will never doubt that he would be there for us if we needed him, even if it cost him his last bottle liquor!

  5. awh, happy birthday to your daddy!

    without daddies, the world would be a sad, lonely place.

  6. I think I may have been one of the ones you are referring to who misunderstood the previous post. Sorry about that. I hope you get to spend more time with your Dad and Happy Birthday to him!

  7. I’ve been in the ether, just coming back to ground and catching up on all my fave bloggers’ lives…

    This is so beautifully written, and my heart aches for you – the joy, sadness and serenity are all so apparent. Well done. And your dad is very, very lucky to have you in his life.

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