What do I remember about my father?

Considering I was 22 years old when he died, I suppose that I should have a ton of memories. But, to be honest, I don't. Maybe it's because I didn't have a whole lot even when he was with us. I suppose not having him around 10-11 months out of the year can do that.

I remember his face, of course. I know that he loves ABBA and when we were kids, we'd wake up to the song Chiquitita or some other ABBA song every Sunday morning when he was home. He had no qualms about dancing even though he dances funny. He loved karaoke. His favorite trick with my mom was tapping her shoulder with his finger (kalabit) and pretend it wasn't him. His laugh was a bit gruff and I tend to think of them as Tim Taylor (Home Improvement) man sounds.

Beyond the things I've mentioned about, there is little else I remember. It's sad really. But really, at this point there's not much I can do about it.

The time I've spent with my father has always been short. Even when he was home, I never really talked to him. Sure we'd talk but never about important things. He never asked about school, my friends, my hobbies or anything really personal beyond what I want to eat for lunch or whatever meal we're supposed to be having. He'd joke around with me sometimes but even that sort of disappeared when I got older.

At one point I suspected he didn't like me. He once made a comment that I court bad luck unto my family because I always frown. In my defense at that time, I had just woken up and I'm not a morning person. It hurt, although I knew he was just feeling a bit pissy for some reason or another and that he didn't mean it. Still, little things like those did get to me especially since he's my dad.

I admit that I was never Ms. Sunshine. I don't greet him with a big smile when I come home and see him. I'm not a puppy. My eldest sister is like that though and she was clearly his favorite. They'd talk a lot.

I tried to bond with him at one point. It was my summer vacation between my junior and senior year in high school. I asked him to teach me to drive. I figured I could use this as a way to bond with him. But he refused. He said that since he wasn't a professional driver he isn't allowed to teach me blah, blah, blah. I knew it was a lie. He could, he just didn't want to. It was at that point that I stopped trying. You can't force the unwilling and anyway it wasn't like we had a totally fucked up relationship. I figured why try to fix something that wasn't necessarily broken. I knew he loved me. He may not want to spend a whole lot of time getting to know me but he loved me enough and I've accepted that.

Do I resent that fact that we weren't as close as he was with my eldest sister? Before yes, now...it just doesn't matter. We weren't close. That was that. I do miss him at times. And there are moments when I do wish I have more memories of him. And I guess, I'm writing this entry as an exercise for me not to forget what little I have of him.