remembering SCEAN...

When my dad was alive I talked to him almost every day. Sometimes multiple times a day, should my friends do something ridiculously stupid, my professor say something ridiculously stupid, I do something ridiculously stupid, my kids do something ridiculously cute, or some annual bullshit occur that he and I seemed to be the only people in existence that saw some sort of stupidity in. Once he died, I called his voicemail every 23 minutes or so, just to hear his voice on the message. In the months and years following his death, I would call to hear his voice and leave a message when one of the kids did something I knew he would be elated to be a part of. I called and left messages when I knew he would be elated to hear I took a stand in my life and made choices I knew he would either be proud of or, in some occasions, saddened by. As the years passed, I would call only at the times that occurred where he and I had shared a private, personal love or hatred of something. These were annual things...conversations we had, almost scripted, every year...they went something like this...

The first snow

"Dad. It's fucking snowing."
Bags are already packed.
"Where are we going this year?"
Aruba, Jamaica, oooooh I wanna take you...
"What about Bermuda or the Bahamas?"
Wherever you want, KB.
"Dad. I HATE the fucking snow. I hate it. Can we leave today? Please?"
Yep. You and me, honey. Let's leave.
"I love you, daddy."
I know, baby.
"Just a box on a bridge, like Skink."
Box on a bridge, KB.

Or when it got really hot

"Dad. It's fucking HOT out there. Like, if I had balls, I'd have serious swamp ass kind of HOT."
You're my daughter. So. Completely. My daughter.
"I don't know what the means. I think my daughter won't survive this heat. Should I take her to the emergency room? What if her heart stops? What if she is MY daughter and she can't take this heat, passes out, and her heart quits working???"
For Cry-yi, KB, she isn't a broken baby
"Nooooo, but her heart is, Dad. She is my daughter and I am yours. We were, sad as it is, born with broken hearts."
......
.....
"Dad, do you think that is why you and me and people like us are here? To live our lives to heal our already broken hearts? If that's the case then why has He made my life so. Fucking. Heartbreaking.?"
You're more of train wreck than I am, sometimes.
"Fuck you, too!"
Honey, those questions are ones you know I can't answer. What I know is you were given to me and you were the best gift I ever received. You make my life worth living.
"I know, Daddy. I'm a parent now, too."

Or when it was New Year's Eve, every year, from the time I was old enough to NOT spend it with my parents

Happy New Year, KB! What are you doing?
>me, doing some underage or illegal activity< "Oh, not much! Just...eating some pizza! Happy New Years, Daddy!"
You know you're the first person I wish a happy new year to every year?
"I know, Dad."
You've been my first wish for a good year for >15, 16, 17, 18, 19....< years. Since the very first one we had! You're my favorite part of the year."
"Dad, it's really loud here...I love you, too! Goodnight!"

I look at those conversations now and the flaws that we had and I know he was the most influential person in my life. I love that I can remember those things. I wonder, sometimes, if my brother and sister have memories like that with him. I hope they do.