…and most definitely the first time that I’ve skipped a day writing for “Show Me”. I knew the streak couldn’t last forever, but the day did begin in a most unusual way, so I can hardly be blamed very much. Allow me to explain…
I was having a dream in which my parents, dressed in rubber aprons and white suits (a la Dr. Horrible), were going down into the basement of a creepy horror house (in which we’ve never actually lived) to retrieve some iron implements with which to kill me. I locked the door behind them as I scrambled to collect what ended up being a rather impressive weapon collection of my own on a canvas sheet.
About that time, my Dad burst through the door and began chasing me down a narrow, creepy hallway – his part being played at the time by Will Sasso, formerly of Mad TV fame. At the end of the hallway, we squared off against one another. He held a metal bat with both hands, and I held a metal bat in my left hand with what looked like a cross between a cleaver and a partisan in my right.
In an instant, I had knocked him to the ground and was on top of him. I used what was now a pointed steak knife in my hand to carve into his chest. My subconscious was anatomically stupid that night – there was no rib cage to break through or lungs to move out of the way, and the heart was shaped more like a red rubber oven mitt.
I held it up to him, and realized that it was my real Dad’s face now. He winced, and then smiled an odd “I love you, son”-smile as he lie dying. I could feel his large, working-man hand caress the back of my head, and I wept. I knew I was losing him forever.
I awoke weeping.
My Dad is almost 30 years older than I, and is currently wasting away in prison for a crime that I won’t mention here. I still love him, and even though we’ve not often shared those tender father/son moments that I so often see in movies as the definitive mark of manly love… every time I see one, I tear up a bit. I know real men don’t cry, but that’s my movie weakness – that moment when the bond between father and son, strong and unspoken, comes bursting to the surface – and you know that each one recognizes what a precious and glorious thing it is to have the other in his life.
When I wish on the future, one of my strongest hopes is that my son will one day grow to love me with that same manly devotion that I’ve superimposed on my relationship with my own Dad.
My daughters, of course, are also encouraged to love me; for there’s just as special a bond between a father and daughter as there is between father and son. I don’t know why I’ve always held the one to be more precious, but if I had to point to something, it would probably be my church upbringing… all that Old Testament stuff about firstborn sons and what-not.
At any rate, that’s why there was no post yesterday.
Also, I should be posting again later on today, so look forward to that.