Throughout my years of recovery (from alcohol and from hell), I’ve remembered many things, some of them good and some of them not so good. When it comes to memories of my dad, there aren’t very many.
In the past, most memories I’ve had of him were attached with pain, but through learning how to reject the pain, I now only have memories, and most of them that I remember bring a smile to my face, like the one I had this morning.
As I was getting my coffee, I remembered one of my favorite childhood moments, but before I tell you about that, I’ll give you a little background of my dad.
First of all, he’s dead. He passed away in two thousand four; although, I didn’t find out until the end of two thousand five. He spent many years drinking, which was the cause of his death, so most of my memories included that, but not all of them.
There was one particular day, when my sister and I came home from school and received the surprise of my little life: my dad had lunch ready for us!
I’m not sure where he normally was for this to shock me, but I remember he loved watching TV and was gone for stints at a time, so maybe to find him in the kitchen like that was rare.
The lunch wasn’t anything extravagant: slices of bread with gravy poured on top, but it was the best food I’d had in my life, and I bet it’s the reason I love to cook for my kids.
When I was drinking, I cooked the very basic meals for my kids…a lot of “Hamburger Helper,” but after I sobered up, I saw that cooking for them was showing them love. I bet that’s what my dad thought, too, and I bet that’s why the bread and gravy tasted so good.
Even though I don’t remember him ever saying it, I know my dad loved me very much, and I’m so glad I’m the mother I am today!
[Oh man…it seems like a morning where I want to “write,” but I’ll split it up into different posts.]