Father's Day

Wow...almost a whole year since I've blogged. A hell of a lot has gone on, but that's for another time. This post? This one's about my dad...

For those of you who know me pretty well, you'll already know a lot of this story. I'll do my darnedest to not turn this into a teal deer, but we'll see what happens...

So, just a hair over 6 years ago, my father was in a nearly fatal accident. He had been riding his motorcycle when he was struck side-on by a car - a car whose driver didn't look both ways before entering the road, from what I gathered from the police report. The first information I got about the accident was wrong. The woman who was with the tow truck driver had decided to answer dad's cell phone, and told me that he had been driving without a license and had been taken in by the Brunswick cops. Turns out, PATENTLY false. Like, not even in the realm of reality. I called my sister, let her know that the woman who answered dad's phone said he was fine, just had been taken in for no license. Ok, fine. Then I get a phone call from dad's girlfriend. I needed to get home NOW, dad was in a coma and they weren't sure if he was going to make it through the night. I'm sorry, what now? After a few frantic phone calls, I found someone to drive me home to Maine (almost 4 hours) - I didn't dare try to drive myself. My best friend at the time, Matt, called while we were on the road to Maine. He insisted that my ride (my ex-boyfriend) drop me off at the hospital the next morning, and Matty would be along shortly thereafter to keep me company/keep me sane. Regardless of it being the last day of classes, and a hell of a long drive with no hockey game at the end, Matt ignored my protestations, repeated his instructions, and wished me luck for the rest of the ride.
Arriving at the hospital, I wasn't sure what to expect...How banged up would dad be? Would he be able to hear me at all? Anything? The doctors told me that if they could get him to 24 hours, they could get him to 48. If they could get him from 48 hours to 72 hours, he stood a good chance of surviving. What state he'd be in, we didn't know yet, but he'd be alive at least.Well, it's a start.
Days passed, countless hours spent watching monitors in his room, monitors that registered his blood pressure, his pulse, the pressure in his brain...everything. He'd had a traumatic brain injury, and no one was quite sure what was going to come next. (ok, going to skip a bit, no one needs to read the drama...and if you know me well enough, you know that a)I'm not a fan of the drama, and b)there was one HELL of a lot of drama)
Skip ahead 6 years and guess what? Dad's walking me down the aisle in August. My dad is one of the toughest, strongest men I know (and that's not just physical strength, though he's damned strong, too). He's overcome so much since his accident...yes, he has his days where you can absolutely tell he's had an accident (he gets tired easily, is a little shorter tempered, doesn't quite pick up on when my sister and I are being smartasses as quickly) and there are other days where he's almost right back to where he was pre-accident.
There are times, especially when he's having a bad day, where it's easy for me to sit an wallow in self pity, about how unfair it is my fiance and future kids won't ever know just how funny my dad was (he's still pretty funny though!), or exactly what he was like...but then again, they get to know him NOW, and that's the really important part.
Happy Father's day, Dad. I know you'll probably never read this, what with being anti-computer and all, but I love you more that you'll know.