Dad Knew Which Bolt

"Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes."

~Gloria Naylor

Like most humans, I have my good qualities, and my bad qualities. Sometimes I think my very worst character flaw is my over propensity for sentimentality. It's my pattern of inability to let go of different things that serves as my greatest source of devastation. I have had super bad boyfriends that I seemed to have enough clarity to break-up with, but a year later I would find myself still mourning the loss of what could have been. Hell, I still find myself from time to time Googling old loves, not because I am unhappy in my marriage, or want to start some cheesy affair, but because I will remember a day we spent together, and I wonder what that perfect person was up to!

LOL.

When asshole thieves broke into our storage unit and took just about everything we ever owned, I didn't mourn the loss of the material items. Don't get me wrong, I still wanted the cherry wood dresser Alan and I purchased when we first got married, but at the end of the day it still amounted to being categorized as JUST STUFF. Alan wasn't stolen. Elvis hadn't been stolen. We lost replaceable items. Although I did have a particularly lovely little stuffed bear that breaks my heart to no longer own, but it has always been my hope that she found a little girl who needed a friend, and I know Bess the Bear would have made a wonderful one. But as at peace as I am with that thought, I still look for her on EBAY and other sights. She was a Boyd's Bear, about 14 inch's tall, and wore a blue gingham dress.

Lovely.



Yesterday, I experienced another great loss. Don't laugh. You see, I had inherited my father's PO BOX when he became ill and needed someone to help him with paying his bills. It was something shared by us, and that trust came to mean a lot to me. My father passed away in August of 1995 on the 29th day of the month. I had made plans to close the box 2 months after his death, but when the time came, I saw all kinds of reasons why owning a PO Box made sense for Alan and I, and he agreed! So we kept it, and used it for catalogs, and for corresponding with pals on the Internet and feeling better about privacy, because my siblings loved to go through our mail when at all possible. My sister in particular was LIVID that dad had shared his PO Box with me, as opposed to with her. She developed a hatred of that situation, that flowed over into our already rocky relationship.

She is stupid, mean spirited, a drug addict and I will speak about her no further.

I miss my dad. I enjoyed kinda feeling like he was nearby when I picked up mail from that tiny box. Unfortunately, the box is now gone. The yearly renewal for the box was for $49 and was due on February 28th. Well, that date came and left, with me having dropped the ball on getting a check to the Post Office. When Alan and I realized our oversight yesterday, and went to pay it, we found that due to a new rule, you don't get 30 days grace period any longer. You now only get 10 days grace! When we didn't show up to pay, they cleared the mail out, changed the lock, and immediately rented the box to someone else!

At first I was incredibly hurt. But then I remembered... dad knew which bolt could bring down an entire airplane!

How does that help ease the pain? Well, you see, Dad is right here with me at all times, he doesn't live in the Post Office. He gave me the values I have today. I am a liberal progressive because of him, a fact I literally thank him, and GOD for every single day! He never told me I couldn't fly in a plane, but he, as an aircraft mechanic, did in fact know which one single bolt that could bring down a plane of any size, and he refused to say which one, because he didn't want me to walk around with unreasonable fears. It didn't help, I had a strong fear of flying for most of my adult life, but one day I said FUCK IT, pulled the stick out, and allowed myself to live me life! Having survived 3 car crashes in my lifetime, one nearly fatal, I kinda found it stupid that I didn't give flying a chance.

The trip Alan and I took for our anniversary last fall was A-MAZE-ING! I wouldn't trade those memories, or the chance to photograph my beloved San Francisco from the sky for anything! And while I was up in the sky, pretending I was a snowy Egret, I could almost feel my very amused father sitting next to me! LOL. That's why I snapped the picture above, I could just tell he was right there, happy and aware that he hadn't raised a coward for a daughter. It wasn't in a twin engine Cessna... no... not on your life, twin engines are for pussy's... nope... I was flying in a single engine, Cessna Skyhawk, and I was living my life!

Sometimes it's not the great big things that hurt the most, it's the small things. Stupid things like a single tiny bolt falling off an airplane. But in my case, as much as that bolt falling off that metaphorical plane yesterday hurt me, it didn't and won't kill me. Dad isn't in the Post Office, he is right her with me when I need him. But on a happy note, the postmaster had changed the lock and therefore didn't need to the key... how cool is that? So, maybe when this cold of mine is finally done, I will make a trip to Michael's and buy some doodads and turn the key into a pendant or a bracelet or something like that! I am looking forward to that I think.

Damn... look at that... I think I have a pretty healthy outlook after all. Yes, I rock! LOL. Besides, the bill for my annual mailbox rental went from $49 to $89 in a year! I am pretty sure I would have given up on things anyway! LOL and again, I can almost hear dad somewhere whispering to me... "It's about damn time you let go of that thing... that price is outrageous! Damn republicans!

Yes dad... DAMN REPUBLICANS!

*Some of dad's favorite places in San Francisco. During the 1980s he work extensively on the restoration of the S.S. Jeremiah O'Brien

 

Mood: Happy

~Me :)