my yoda

i've been thinking a lot about my dad.  it's hard to believe it will be four years in march.  he was a quiet guy.  opinionated, but quiet.  he was also very funny.  but you wouldn't necessarily know that unless you met him after he'd had a few.  that's when he would let his guard down. 

i remember sitting with him in silence when i was young.  the silence felt uncomfortable.  but as i grew older i came to realize the silence was more than comfortable.  that we were often sitting silent in the same paradigm.  we didn't need to talk.  sometimes we'd be listening to something on the radio or tv, seemingly disconnected from each other, but then we'd chuckle in unison.  it took me a really long time to figure out how similar we were.  from the fire in the belly - to the creepiness of our identical legs.  

sometimes i revisit my old journal to reconnect.  i documented funny anecdotes there from when i moved home during grad school.  here are a few of my favorites:
_________________________________________________________________________

my dad is downstairs totally watching that american idol rip-off show.

you know, the one where they pass all the really horrible singers to the next round? and he's laughing hysterically. it's making me laugh just hearing him laugh. god he's funny.

_________________________________________________________________________

right now my parents are attending a stage performance of the graduate. they're going to see lorraine bracco naked. my father (who purchased the tickets as a gift for my mom) claims that he had no idea that their would be live nudity.

sure, dad. 

_________________________________________________________________________

my mother is obsessively clean.  a trait that plagued my childhood with chore lists, endless dusting, and screaming matches over "the missed spot." i used to joke with my dad about her ability to spot a lint ball from 50 paces.  even in a hidden spot nestled between the couch and the baseboard with a lamp in front of it.  i'm not exaggerating.  this woman had skillz.  however, i've made note since i moved back that she has toned down the cleaning bit.  i'm thinking it has something to do with needing reading glasses.

they painted my parents bedroom yesterday.  my dad said he's glad my mom wasn't around when they moved the furniture away from the walls because she would have freaked.  i quote:

"there were dust balls so big you could've saddled them and rode them around." 

_________________________________________________________________________ 

my dad on the topic of egg salad:

"it's like eating a faht sandwich."

______________________________________________________________________ 

it's bittersweet that we can now make egg salad without worrying about driving my father crazy with the residual faht sandwich smell.  i can't boil an egg without thinking about him.  but i haven't been thinking about him because i've been boiling a lot of eggs recently.  it's taken me almost four years to start thinking about how i feel about losing my dad.  it's taken this long to fully acknowledge the hole i have in my heart.  how i feel like a piece of me has perished.

because i am so much like my dad.
he taught me well the art of repression.