parents are people too

over spring break...post being sick the first time and prior to the blizzard...we all spent a lot of time out at the house seriously cleaning. we filled up an entire roll off dumpster the first day, and we could do it again. don't tempt us. by the grace of god we found a family member who loved my dad's truck as much as he did. my brother and i saved and saved and saved this truck because we could literally not bear to part with it. before my uncle came to pick it up, i sat in the cab and cried. obviously letting go of each significant piece is hard, but i was so sad at the realization that I never fully appreciated my dad's interest in this vehicle. he worked on it for years - to perfection. i heard all of the stories about the paint and the accessories all the way to the carburetor. but despite those things, despite his passion, i was just embarrassed at how loud and ostentatious it appeared. sweet pea loved spending time with his grandpa looking at all the tools and gadgets in the truck bed. my dad loved driving into my quiet suburban neighborhood and revving the engine. he literally beamed when my neighbor became green with envy at the sight of it (suburban man with overbearing wife=rebellious husband who wants the unspeakable red truck). the bfrt. the big, f-ing, red, truck my dad called it. it was a part of his life i had little part of.

this weekend i made it into his room and picked up where my brother had left off in sorting out his personal things. my brother showed me his journal from vietnam. my dad had saved his wedding ring in a box with my grandpa's watch. pictures of people i didn't know with inscriptions that said to kenny, love so and so. a water bottle from a bike ride we did together in 2004. one hundred pictures of my brother (he was always the favorite). i never pegged my dad as being that sentimental or a saver. but as we pack up those little things, the things that made him not just my dad but human, i'm beginning to see my parents as more than just those who gave me life.

when we started up the bfrt...the carburetor blew. the way my dad told the story, he had been negotiating with the neighbor to acquire the carburetor off of his old truck. the neighbor set the price too high (on purpose). now for some reason i think my dad earned the carburetor although i don't know what price he paid. maybe it was a cribbage debt...or maybe he won the college football pool. but i know the truck ran perfectly the week my dad died. i was immediately suspicious, as was my brother. but in my dad's good natured humor, i know he would have appreciated the fact that his neighbor got the better of him in the end. sadly, the truck had to be towed. seeing the truck as a parallel to my dad's life, it made me sad that it couldn't be driven out of town in a blaze of glory as my dad would have wanted. but i guess in the end, we don't get to pick and choose the ending to our story. and by only embracing the parts of a life that are easy and comfortable, we miss the overall humanity in the tale. as all things are part of the bigger story, it's nice to see it unfolding and developing even after his death. it's nice to see him for the human he was, not just my dad.