One of my favorite weekly traditions - if not my absolute favorite - happens every Monday night, after Xenos homechurch (which is basically a college-age bible study I highly recommend) when my boyfriend drops me off back home. We get back to the house a little bit early, and sit and talk in the driveway. Finally, a few minutes after I'm technically supposed to be inside, we stumble out of his abused Ford Taurus and make our way inside. Right on cue, Jay Leno's monologue is ending and he gets ready to do Headlines - a late night show tradition that has no equal, no, not even Letterman's Top Ten can hold a candle to it. As always, my little bro and sis are asleep upstairs and dad is either conked out on the couch or deep in his wine-red armchair fiddling on his laptop. And then the three of us watch Headlines together, laughing and crying from laughing and falling out of armchairs or couches from said laughter. Since Dave and I park ourselves on the floor, I just roll around on the carpet like a demented dog when something really tickles me, but since I'm easily amused that's about 7 out of the 10 minutes that I'm hyperventilating.
Last night was slightly different, though, because before leaving my dad, whom I am very close to, came downstairs when he got home and he spelled out everything that was going on with his girlfriend. I guess CeAnne has been guarded and cool towards him for the past couple weeks and my dad, who is as affectionate and involved in his relationships as I am, was telling me that it was starting to wear on him. In an hour's heart-to-heart, he all but said it was practically over between she and he, because it seemed like she was treating him with mistrust when he had never given her cause to doubt him whatsoever.
Coming back from homechurch, I watched Headlines with them, and after Dave left I telepathically communicated the question: has anything else happened since I've been gone? Choking up with tears, he read me the last two paragraphs of an email she had sent him, and I felt my heart breaking with his. They should be having lunch together as I type this, and I can only hope for the best...whatever the best is.
After he read that to me, I so badly wanted to talk about it with him, to help him...but the father/daughter relationship still draws lines in the friendship we have, and continuing to talk about that with him was crossing that line. I kissed him goodnight and went upstairs. I pulled out the letter Dave wrote me a week ago and looked at his picture with that great smile of his; I clutched them to myself for all I was worth, and ached for my Dad's pain. His marriage ended four years ago, he had an engagement broken off not quite a year ago...and now this heartache piled on that. I just wish he could find whoever She is, because he so deserves her. Not once has he railed against God and shaken his fist at the heavens or taken it out on us kids or anything of that nature - patiently, faithfully, lovingly he endures it with this trust that I envy, a trust saying that everything will work out for the better.
In my mind, I clung to Dave as I fell asleep, thinking about grateful I was to have him and how easy things usually seem. We have our off days and subjects we butt heads on and things we need to struggle through together, sure...but our good days are really often and really good...and I just hope we never have to put each other through the things my dad has to deal with these wonderful, but confused, women he's been with. I'm anxious to see him and talk to him again, for at least an ultimatum...maybe this will be an opportunity to exercise the kind of trust my dad has.
*sigh* I've subjected you to enough of my thought process for now. My ride should be here soon, so I'll get off here for now. Thanks for staying in tune, to my wittiness and my wonderings alike. I promise, the next post will be much more light-hearted - you can hold me to it.
Last night was slightly different, though, because before leaving my dad, whom I am very close to, came downstairs when he got home and he spelled out everything that was going on with his girlfriend. I guess CeAnne has been guarded and cool towards him for the past couple weeks and my dad, who is as affectionate and involved in his relationships as I am, was telling me that it was starting to wear on him. In an hour's heart-to-heart, he all but said it was practically over between she and he, because it seemed like she was treating him with mistrust when he had never given her cause to doubt him whatsoever.
Coming back from homechurch, I watched Headlines with them, and after Dave left I telepathically communicated the question: has anything else happened since I've been gone? Choking up with tears, he read me the last two paragraphs of an email she had sent him, and I felt my heart breaking with his. They should be having lunch together as I type this, and I can only hope for the best...whatever the best is.
After he read that to me, I so badly wanted to talk about it with him, to help him...but the father/daughter relationship still draws lines in the friendship we have, and continuing to talk about that with him was crossing that line. I kissed him goodnight and went upstairs. I pulled out the letter Dave wrote me a week ago and looked at his picture with that great smile of his; I clutched them to myself for all I was worth, and ached for my Dad's pain. His marriage ended four years ago, he had an engagement broken off not quite a year ago...and now this heartache piled on that. I just wish he could find whoever She is, because he so deserves her. Not once has he railed against God and shaken his fist at the heavens or taken it out on us kids or anything of that nature - patiently, faithfully, lovingly he endures it with this trust that I envy, a trust saying that everything will work out for the better.
In my mind, I clung to Dave as I fell asleep, thinking about grateful I was to have him and how easy things usually seem. We have our off days and subjects we butt heads on and things we need to struggle through together, sure...but our good days are really often and really good...and I just hope we never have to put each other through the things my dad has to deal with these wonderful, but confused, women he's been with. I'm anxious to see him and talk to him again, for at least an ultimatum...maybe this will be an opportunity to exercise the kind of trust my dad has.
*sigh* I've subjected you to enough of my thought process for now. My ride should be here soon, so I'll get off here for now. Thanks for staying in tune, to my wittiness and my wonderings alike. I promise, the next post will be much more light-hearted - you can hold me to it.
Comments
Contemplative: about the wonderful relationship you obviously have with your dad. I hope my own daughters have that when they're your age.
Sad: for what your dad's going through.
Happy: imagining you rolling on the carpet like a dog when you laugh. I can totally picture that!