When Father’s Day approaches every year it’s hard to ignore it. You’re bombarded with reminders on telly, radio, ads on socials – ‘Don’t forget Dad this Sunday...’
Well I remember him every bloody day. Since his passing, there isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t ponder over the memory of Dad. I reminisce about all the cool fun times, the times I got growled at, the times he'd sit and chat to me for yonks about my life, helped with school projects. He was there for all the daily dramas - that now seem so insignificant - like “Why won’t my hair elastics hold my ponytail high?”
Of course, when I’d ask for advice on life’s pressing matters, he’d always tell me what I didn’t wanna hear, and I’d revolt, fuck up and then run back home to the nest. He’d always forgive my shitty behaviour, especially growing up as a teenager. I guess that’s what unconditional love is.
Ya see, my Dad was a single father, raising two girls on his own. As an adult, I realise just how bloody tough that must have been. You imagine the yelling matches between two young girls, like the ones I’d have with my sister. Somehow, Dad would defuse most of these situations with his super deep, radio voice… “Now kids, bloody cut that out!”
We didn’t have much growing up, but it never felt like that. We had emotional support in spades. Whenever we’d feel insecure, or felt like we were missing out, somehow he’d sacrifice and make sure we had what we needed. He coached our netball teams, drove us everywhere, and he was a top cook so our bellies were always chockers.
We lived in a cosy suburb, in an OK weatherboard shack, and had about the bombiest car in the neighbourhood. He knew it wasn’t the best, and highlighted this with a bumper sticker that read “Don’t dream it, do it”. I reckon it was an old Tattslotto sticker he nabbed from the newsagent one day and trimmed up to fit the rear bumper. Whenever I saw this sticker, instead of thinking ‘OMG here comes Dad to pick me up in our piece of shit car,’ I was always distracted by it.
It wasn’t until very recently that I recalled this funny piss take on the shittiest car going around. I wonder what others thought, sitting at the lights behind this shit heap. Driving a car like that, with a big ‘Don’t dream it, do it’ sticker flipping the bird to the world. Absolute pisser.
As silly as it sounds I reckon it inadvertently left a huge impression on me. Without even realising it,
I’ve achieved a shit load. I wonder if I still would have if Dad hadn’t ferried us around in the beast for years. With that stupid sticker as a constant reminder.
It also made me ask myself, what legacy will I leave behind when I’m gone? Maybe I’ve already left one and future generations will pick it up and run with it down the track. My whole adult life I’ve been a doer and I’m probs not gonna stop. So watch out - there’s gonna be legacies dropping left, right and centre.
Thanks Dad. Thanks for taking the piss and leaving a lasting legacy behind. A subliminal message at best!
Don’t Dream It, Do It.
Miss ya Dad, Happy Father’s Day!
Penned by, Sabina Turner / Edited by Bel 'Rebelle Blogger'