LOOK DAD
The first time I dropped my son off at day care I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the entry doors. I’m wearing my comfiest leggings, t-shirt, sneakers, toddler on my hip and his little blue backpack slung over my shoulder. I was feeling so many emotions and I couldn’t help but pause. The thing that gave me pause was oddly enough- my dad. I felt like I was looking at myself through his eyes for a moment. He never got to meet this version of me.
When he died, I was twenty-four and I had barely begun living my life. I used to get so angry that he died at a time I was so immature and I didn’t know who I was. For so many years I let that anger take over me. I’m grateful I’ve let that go. But gosh did that take me a while. And when I saw myself standing there that day I chuckled and said under my breath. “What do ya think dad? Look at me.”
A lot has changed in the eight years that he has been gone. Back then I could hardly boil an egg and now I’ve created a whole human. I really think that his angel self is in such disbelief that I turned out okay (sort of).
Looking at my reflection, I wonder what he would think. Would he recognize this person I have become? Or am I frozen in time? So unsteady, so messy. Does he know I got married and had a baby? That I can actually do a hell of a lot more than boil an egg now. Is he proud, or is he completely dumbfounded? Can you even be dumbfounded in heaven?
Maybe I’m not supposed to ask these silly questions. But will that stop me? Absolutely not. These are the things we are forced to think about.
They may be too deep for some, but it’s where my mind wanders. It’s like your brain literally can’t comprehend the big massive void that is there and it just starts to short circuit. Grief is weird.
I now know that I am a reflection of him. I don’t have to wonder if he would recognize me today. I see my dad in the shape of my eyes, in the way that I walk, in the way I laugh, in my awkward lanky limbs, in the way I always try to keep the peace, and the way I fiercely love my family. He will be in the lessons and values I teach my children. He is everywhere. I see parts of him in myself and my world every day. And when I tell stories about him, it makes him more alive than ever.
He knows the woman staring back at me in these doors. I keep him so close that there is no way he couldn’t know this version of me.
I think we’re all reflections of our parents in some way. And now that I have to experience life without him, I couldn’t be more grateful that I am a reflection of that man.
Sometimes when I really need him, I can close my eyes and hear his voice. God that makes me smile.
He’s still there.
And I know he always will be.
