But every time I look in the mirror I see parts of him.
I have been known to say, in exasperation, that my dad had Andy Rooney eyebrows and he passed them down to me.
If you don't know who Andy is, I found some pictures of his eyebrows. He used to do the last part of 60 Minutes.
Do you see the untamed wilderness that hood his tired eye? My dad's weren't as bad as Andy's, but Joyce also had him go to the barber and have his tamed from time to time. But you get the idea of what could happen.
This past week I took the clippers I use to cut the boys hair, put on a #2 guard and mowed my eyebrows down. I have used scissors to varying degrees of effectiveness, but last time I got my hair cut the stylist shared that she has used the #1 guard to do eyebrows before. That was a revelation to me. I wanted a way to have even eyebrow hairs and my previous trimming left much to be desired. At times I think I had individual eyebrow hairs that were an inch long. And they grow so fast that I can be surprised and dismayed by the growing wilderness.
Here is a picture of my hairy, poorly-trimmed eyebrow and my dad's nose that sits in the middle of my face.
I have his red-headed skin, if not his hair. I burn or fry in the sun.
I have made piece with his nose on my face, I used to hate it. I am learning how to tame his eyebrows. I have learned, at great pain, how to protect my skin, although sometimes I still forget. But all these things remind me of him.
The pictures I have of my dad are when he was young. And as I think about it, really it is what he looks like now. Back in his prime and strength.
My dad when he still had his hair, when his eyes were healthy, when he could trust his heart and he could breathe.
I think about him at times. I wonder if he is happy with me and the choices I have made. I wonder if checks in on me from time to time. I wonder if he watches my boys grow and is perhaps a guardian angle when they are young and stupid. I wonder if he is perhaps my guardian angel and helps me navigate these busy roads as I go about my day of being the bus to my boys.
He taught me to be kind. He reminded me to call my mother. He asked my about my car and how my job was going. He gave me the courage to leave Utah and go and find my future, and then he asked me when I was coming home.
I remember fishing trips. I remember hikes and camping out. I remember talks on the back porch and phone calls checking in. I remember his stories. He was a natural story-teller and loved to tell about his early years. He had stories about us kids - all the funny things we did as we grew up. He loved to laugh and making other people laugh. Humor was his gift.
He taught me about living an honorable life. He shared his mistakes and how he turned them into his triumphs. He thought deeply and knew what the important things in life were.
I am happy he is no longer trapped in a dimming body, but I miss him greatly.
I love you, Dad.
