To Know You Is to Love You






I lost him. Suddenly and unexpectedly. When my brother made the call, I thought at first he was playing a cruel joke on me. Then the shock factor waved in. I cried the entire plane ride home. After I handled my affairs though that's when I nearly lost it. My heart was broken. Hell, it still is. His death led to my estrangement from my family. They all turned their back on me. Some even betrayed me. I'm haunted by words left unsaid. And the pain still to this day is sometimes too unbearable to take. I miss his wistful smile and the sounds from his guitar. I miss our long talks in the car when we'd drive 'up North' to visit those we loved. I miss seeking his advice and him letting me cry on his shoulder until I soaked the entire damn shirt. I miss my father.   

I have my mother's spirit, but I have his soul. I love what he loved. Music, books, cars, boxing... German Shepherd dogs. When he was a kid my father had taken in a female German Shepherd that was abandoned and had named her Lady. But he lost her too soon when she was hit by a car and died in his arms. He was so crushed he wore her chain collar around his neck afterward, even leading some of the kids at school poking fun at him for wearing it and resulting in a fight. She was his everything. I respect this breed for the same reasons my father did; loyal, dedicated, courageous, intelligent and loving. They are the ideal family dog. Even at an early age, I begged my parents to have one, but my mother refused. Opposite reasons for what my father wanted, she had lost her Keeshond while living in California, and I think it hurt her so badly, she didn't even want to risk having me or my brother go through the same thing. Now as a grown-ass woman, I have to say, that getting my German Shepherd dog, MaQ, was one of the best things I have ever done in my life. 

One of our favorite films we loved to watch was 1979's boxing movie, The Champ. Even to this day, I still get all choked up when watching any boxing film. There is so much heart in the sport. I know some might not care for the violence, but that's not what it's about. In the boxing ring of life, it's not how hard you can hit, but rather how many times you can get hit and keep moving forward. That's what I see in a good fighter, in any sport for that matter. Someone who is full of adversity and still has the will to persevere. Whether in the ring or out of it, no one likes a quitter. And when anyone gives up, I guarantee you they don't feel good about it. 

What I really miss is hearing him play in the background growing up as a child. He had his own 'man cave' down in the basement, and once he plugged in the amp to one of his electric guitars, you could hear him jamming all the way up from the second floor. (I grew up in a duplex house) As much as my mother hated it, I found it to be rather soothing in a rollercoaster type of childhood. I had always encouraged him to try and make a demo, and I know I sound biased with what I'm about to say next because I'm his daughter, but he was very talented. When he played the blues, you could feel the pain. Guitars cry too, you know. It's kind of like opera or ballet, either you get it or you don't. I believe there takes a certain type of person to play the blues well. And my father was the epitome of that. 

My father has been without me for nearly five years now, and it was only last year since his death where I even had the courage to take out and look at the only guitar had left in his possession. It is a gorgeous ruby red Ovation Guitar, and I find it so fitting he chose such a color as him and I are both Aries's. Our element is fire and color is red, and our birthdays are two days apart. I'm March 24 and his, the 26th. I'm similar to him in many ways, some good, and some not so good, but I do take pride in who I am. Like my father, I can be stubborn, cocky, impatient, blunt, even sometimes slightly intimidating but I am also generous, kind, loving and true. I don't let my friends down and would give a stranger the shirt off my back if that's all I had left. And I too, can sometimes not have the guts to go after something because I fear I may not be good enough. I don't think this was entirely the case with my father, but his reason for never making a demo tape was his love for playing and not anything else.  

I think if you're passionate about something like my father was with music and playing the guitar, you should continue to pursue it and not just consider it as a hobby. So in honor of Father's Day on Sunday, I wanted to share with you some bits and pieces of him, like his guitar in this post, along with his Fender picks, amp plugs, written music notes, and cassette tapes he recorded his favorite songs on plus the music he'd make himself. And a lot of my readers have been wanting to see more videos like I used to create, and given this has been a project I've had on my mind and I wanted to make it extra special, I definitely had to make one in honor of my father. I hope he would have liked it, and I hope you do too with a tiny fraction of who he was. Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to read and watch something that really matters to me. And to all the father's out there, Happy Father's Day to you on Sunday. I love you, dad. Wish you were here, but I know you're watching and I hope I've made you proud. Until I see you when I see you, keep on keepin' on. 

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{To Know You Is to Love You} In honor of Father's Day this Sunday, I finally created an editorial video after a long hiatus - come check it out & press play! :)