Its been 2 years since my father passed away. Writing this to myself seems like a healthy thing to do. But posting it to you all at least seems honoring to my dad. If you dont read this, its ok. But if you do, thanks. And I hope it either gives you a better understanding of my relationship with my father or encourages you to have a better relationship with yours. May Dad met me when I was only months old. He adopted me when I was 10. I remember playing Intellevision with him and loving it. We set up electric magnetic race tracks together. My dad flipped around a pull up bar 20 times with his legs wrapped around it when I was about 5. It was incredible. He was superman to me. I loved my dads scars on his arms. They made me feel comfortable. I loved watching my dad hold my sister, Belinda Iden, when she was a baby. My dad promised me that I would grow out of being ticklish and liking candy. Unfortunately, he was wrong on both accounts. My dad was one of the hardest workers I ever knew. I still have his last paycheck that he never cashed to remind me of this. His last employer cut me a knew check so I could keep the original. My dad didnt make it to my football games...but he did make it to the last High School game I ever played in (at Jesuit High School). And that meant the world to me. I was always pretty sure my dad could beat up anyone. As much as my dad would complain about family being less than perfect...he always did anything for them. My dad wrote letters to his dad like he was his friend. It inspired me that one day my dad would be one of my best friends. This began to happen before he passed away and I am grateful. My daughters still talked about Grandpa and I only wish they could still know him. Some of my favorite picture ever are of him with my 2 girls. I underestimated my dads intelligence. He was SO much smarter than I realized. His vocabulary was amazing and he would put me to shame. Not bad for a guy who didnt finish high school. As much as I didnt like my dads drinking, I loved pouring his beers. I once lit his cigarette when I was about 6 and he made me smoke it. It was disgusting and to this day I havent smoked a thing. I still have his last pack of Marlboros with exactly ONE cigarette in it that I found in his Jeep. If you ever see me with it...please know Im not a smoker, it just reminds me of him. I loved watching my dad with the Alaskan Malamutes we raised and bred. He had a favorite named Max. I truly believe that my dad wanted me to be president. Its the only thing that truly makes me even consider running for office one day. My dad and I loved the Niners. We would celebrate and mourn during every season since about 1984. The year my dad died I didnt watch 1 regular season game. The Niners went to the Superbowl that year. They lost. I had a Superbowl party at my house. My Mother-In-Law, Kit, cried when they lost...and it was for me since she knew how badly I wanted it for me and my dad. I put a picture of John Taylor making the winning touchdown catch in Superbowl 23 (1989) on his box just before he was cremated. I was so glad to have that time with his siblings in silence with our hands on the box together as we said our last goodbyes to my dads body. I still have his ashes and I want them to be buried with me and my family. I think about him a lot. I wish I had called him more. I only have 1 recording of his voice. Its of him finding out that hes going to be a grandpa. I am still honestly mad at myself for not calling in those last weeks and remember crying uncontrollably when I heard he had died. My aunt Sheena told me in the office of my pastor as I was having a meeting with him. I spent hours calling friends on his cell phone after he passed. It was sad and sometimes it was funny. It made me chuckle. I had a dream about him 2 nights ago and he was talking to me like it was days before he was going to die. It was the first time I ever had a lucid dream and I simply asked him questions. Who knows if the answers were accurate...but they meant the world to me. He spoke like he almost knew something was going to happen to him. Grandma joined in and we hugged and I started to cry out loud. I am appreciative of my mothers willingness to talk to me about my dad and the love that she still clearly has for him. It has helped me heal. I am appreciative that my step-father, Eric, has allowed my mother and I to have the freedom to talk about my dad so openly and honestly. I wish my dad could see his grandson, Anthony, and what an amazing job Belinda and Nick are doing at raising him. I wish he could see his soon-to-be granddaughter. I have tried to find out as many stories of my dad as I could; good or bad. I just want to know him better. So if you have any, please share them with me. To anyone that made it this far...thanks for reading. Robert Joseph Bradley (9/1957 - 9/2012)
Posted on: Wed, 10 Sep 2014 06:58:44 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015