Sunday, March 3, 2013

A tribute to my Dad

I have always tried to stay professional and upbeat on this blog. I have also tried not too delve to far into my personal life. However, today is different. Today I find myself wanting to talk about something very close to me. Today marks a date that will live with me the rest of my life, and one I will think about every day for the rest of my life. Today marks the day that my world shattered.

One year ago today my father passed away from pancreatic cancer. It was cruel and swift and took him from our lives in a matter of four very short months. My world was torn apart in a way that can never fully be repaired. He was everything to our little family. He raised 3 teen girls by himself, after my mother passed of breast cancer when I was 12. He remarried and gained 3 more daughters. He was our rock and a shining beacon of positivity. He was always encouraging, always proud of us, and always there to pick us up when we fell.

Why am I telling this to you about this on my craft blog? Well, because without my father, I would not be the proud geek I am today. I would not have this blog, I would not make Link Cats and Goblins.

 My father would have never called himself a geek. The term hadn't been reclaimed yet, when he was young, like it has been now. However, when your father sits dramatically at the piano quoting all of the poem of the “one ring” or runs around the house shouting. “Inconceivable!” it becomes pretty obvious pretty quickly.

It was my father who got me reading in the fantasy genre when I was only eight. I saw a Xanth novel sitting on a shelf with a cool cover, and when I asked him what it was about he simply said “Well I guess you'll have to read it and find out!” He refused to tell me any more details, despite copious begging.  He was the one who raised me on Mel Brooks and The Princess Bride. Dad loved Labyrinth and always wanted to be a muppeteer for Jim Henson.

The two of us used to go the Library in our little town and race each other around the shelves trying to beat each other to the new releases of our favorite series, thus winning the right to read them first. Dad thought everything you did was amazing, whether it be a silly little poem or a paper crane. Truly I have never met a more supportive loving person in my whole life, nor am I likely to again.

My father never even knew the influence he had on us. I remember a few years ago I went to the final showing of “The Producers” in Las Vegas. I was three rows from the stage. At the end of the performance, Mel Brooks came out on stage. I flipped my lid, a true fan girl moment. The first thing I did after the show was call my Dad. His response, “Oh I didn't know you liked him.” I was dumbfounded.

We always had a good relationship. By the time I was a in late high school, we had developed a good base and he treated me like an pretty much like an adult. It allowed us to interact as adults and develop a closer relationship as friends. He was such a positive influence on everyone he touched and he never even realized it. Hell, he would even tell my husband he was proud of him, which is something my husband was sorely lacking in his own life. And who wouldn't love a father in law who insisted, practically begged, to let him dress like Darth Vader at your wedding?

I am in shock and disbelief that almost a year has passed since he left this world. In some ways It feels like time has stopped, the clock frozen on the wall. In a lot of stories, particularly fantasy, you will come across the “tortured soul” archetype. Someone who has lost everything, or lost their family, or the one they cared most about. They are in every story. I will tell you this. Until that day I had never experienced true rage or true agony. It is something you can empathize with, but never truly understand. Not until you feel it coursing through you veins and ripping you apart.

I always think of this quote from “The Princess Bride”

Inigo Montoya: Do you hear that, Fezzik? That is the sound of ultimate suffering. My heart made that sound when Rugen slaughtered my father. The man in black makes it now. “

Don't get me wrong, I go on about life and I strive to be happy. He would be sad to see us languish. He would want us to be happy. I know that. The pain has receded some, but I know that it will never fade entirely. I know he is watching over me. I swear to God some days he is haunting me. (Usually expressed through electronic devices, especially the radio.) And of course I miss him. Every day.

I would always tell him my latest harebrained scheme or costume or art project. He would say “You don't get that from me.” or “The artistic stuff is from your mother,” but without him there would be no world to inspire me. No mercenaries to shout “Inconceivable!” or R.O.U.S's. No Hobbits on long journeys. There would be no trolls in the woods, and no magical worlds with a shape surprisingly similar to Florida. The world would be missing that spark of magic in it. Without him there would be no goblins.

I will always remember our time together, and I will always miss you, Dad.

~ By GoblinGal

#Tribute #geektribute #fcancer