Me and my Dad...
As I sit on my sofa and watch my beautiful husband play a game with his little girl--It reminds me that not every girl's Father's Day were as magical. So today I re-post this tale--one for every little girl that didn't have the perfect Dad. For all the Father's that just didn't really know how to do-it. I'm at peace with mine, I see his imperfections, his humanness and realize that it's in his failures that I have found my greatest strengths.
I hope so many of you can find your peace too.... xo Kathryn
Here is the original post:
Today is my favorite day of the year. It is the day that reminds me of where my people are from. It is familiar, and it speaks to my soul… I wrote this deeply felt post about my father Michael Flynn, but I just can’t seem to hit post… It feels a little too close, that it may hurt my father; paint him in less than an extraordinary light, funny from the girl who has taken to sharing all of her emotions via this blog.
Why resist sharing about a Man who died so many years ago and why am I resistant to share the brokenness in our family? I cannot re-create his life or make my childhood different…
My story is what has brought me to this moment... We are all so imperfect, it is only in the next life where we find the perfection, so in my heart I know my Dad is at peace, he carries none of the worries, I carry for him… So it is with that openness and peace that I share this blog post about my Father… My Dad loved his little girl, his KT, his third child and I loved him. So today I share our story…
Family and the Green…
So this weekend, we celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, one of my favorite holidays. Sure, because I’m Irish Catholic; but more importantly, because it reminds me of my Dad. My very handsome father Michael Flynn.
My father died of lung cancer in December of 1985. I was still wearing my catholic school uniform, when my mom told me in the car. I remember flattening out the pleats in my freshman uniform while I processed the fact that my dad was gone.
As a high school student, I took the Metro (subway) to and from school daily; and that following Spring, I distinctly remember following a man off the train, watching him on the escalator. I was following him… Searching…
Something about this man touched me, made me want to connect… Well he looked like my dad. My mom was waiting for me in the “kiss and ride”…. I got into the car; the tears were rolling down my face. I was a girl who missed her dad.
My parents divorced when I was four… It sticks in my throat when I say, it. I was so little, but it was all I ever knew…
My father didn't have the skills like so many fathers of his day, he lacked the ability to talk and explain his feelings. I feel confident saying that my dad likely suffered, as many Irish men do, from depression and he managed it with alcohol. As a child, he would pick my brother and me up and he would drive us straight to a dark, sticky, smoke and stale smelling bar for lunch. While dad had several beers, we played video games, ate fries and had a few too many Cokes. I learned how to count change in a bar… in first grade…
I learned a lot during my dad’s Saturday field trips, the youngest intern project ever… My first on the job training experience, didn't end with learning to count change, it was the first step into the working world… bartending was my ticket to pay for college.
You see for me, bartending was familiar and safe, I have never been uncomfortable, felt threatened. I loved working in a bar. And frankly, it was a great experiences, I learned how to talk to every kind of person.
I have never been nervous to talk to anyone which is what I learned sipping cokes sitting on that bar stool next to my dad. I learned how to cut people off, clearly and directly, tell a guy not to hit on me, I learned how to flirt, something the Sisters didn't teach me in school. And I learned how to be confident and in control.
I also used these skills to snag my amazingly hot husband while working in a bar… 20 years later, that was still a good play…
As an adult, my heart breaks for my dad… He had no idea what he was doing… He was clueless. He didn't know what to do with me, my brother shared his passions for darts, trains and electronics. What I loved and needed was his attention. Not an easy thing to explain or to get when you are a temper-tantrum, vomiting, dramatic little girl…
Poor dad… If only, we could have gone to a museum, or a concert… He would have seen me. Dad had a love of music, something I loved about his house. He always had music on; he loved a good party and loved to have his family all together.
Gifts that I have inherited; my love of music, still listen to his favorites, I love to entertain, cook and I throw epic, legendary parties…
I loved our Saturday nights, we would watch Love Boat and Fantasy Island and eat big dishes of ice cream in bean-bag chairs… dad was right there between my brother and me. I never could stay awake, so I just remember curling up next to my dad and falling to sleep…
I just loved that moment, that safety with him…
And when the feast of St. Patrick would roll around my father wore this emerald green hat… His homage to the motherland and I loved it… He wore it when he had his beautiful dark brown nearly black hair and even when chemo took that away… And the twinkle in his eye… And it reminded me of why I loved him so much… Because he loved us, in his deeply Irish way…
His heart was on the outside, he loved too big and it wounded him deeply… It is why I can see his heart in my very Irish son… A true Flynn… A heart too big, too easily hurt… And one that I know my dad looks out for from Heaven…
I feel blessed to have had the shortest of times with him. 15 years, not long enough for a father with a daughter, but long enough to push my boat away from the dock, to set me out on the sea and enough to find my way home again…
May the Road rise up to meet you…
Today and always…
If you would like to join me on this pilgrimage, filled with my bad spelling, self-invented grammar, and over all foolishness… Click on the web version of this post and look for the “GET PILGRIMAGEGAL UPDATES VIA EMAIL” option at the top of the right border and enter your email address.