Good Night, Love Ya, See You Tomorrow…

My dad died in November 17 years ago.  I was shocked when my step-mom reminded me how long it’s been.  But in another way, it seems much longer than that.  I miss that guy, even though he was “a handful.”  Oh the fights we used to have 🙂  I began to experiment with eye rolling as a teen and you can guess what behavior would send my dad from 1 to 10 in .5 seconds.  So of course rolling my eyes became my favorite thing to do.

He was a bit on the controlling side (my brother will laugh at the understatement there) like, if we didn’t know our weekend plans in advance, say on Monday or Tuesday, it was a major fight to get out the door on Saturday.  But, seriously, what teenager knows what they are doing on the upcoming weekend on Monday??

And the Christmas tree.  Oh, the Christmas tree.  There were rules.  Like these:

  • All ornaments must hang; they could not rest on the branch below them.
  • No ornaments could hang from the string of lights, they could only hang from the branch.
  • Two ornaments of the same color could not dangle next to one another on the tree. Never, ever.
  • There could be no obvious “holes” in the tree.  You had to start on the inside of the tree and work outward to ensure that said holes would not exist.
  • Tinsel could never, ever be used, unless you were willing to put it on the tree one strand at a time.

It has made putting up my own tree interesting, as I find myself purposely breaking the rules, while simultaneously feeling guilty for breaking the rules.  Ah, parental issues.

And, oh, the issues from his ‘teasing.’  It could be a bit warped, like the time he hung my favorite doll from my bedroom light. Still so mad about that!

But in spite of the challenges of growing up with my father, I loved him like no one else. He was the one who taught me the passion of reading a good book.  He indulged my love of animals, all the way back to the night when he brought a stray cat I had wanted to save against my mom’s wishes in from outside and snuck it into my bed. He was smart and funny and underneath the bluster, a big softie.  No surprise that smart and funny are at the top of my list in looking for a partner.

Yeah, I miss him.  One of the things I miss the most is saying goodnight.  Even though we weren’t an especially emotionally demonstrative family, we always ended the night with a kiss and me saying, “Good night, love ya, see you tomorrow.”  In later years, his response would be “Spaghetti” because he swore I said it one night while half asleep, but I think he made that up.  Still, I wouldn’t have liked saying goodnight any other way.

dad and us 2

And there he is…


Good night, love ya and see ya tomorrow, guys!  (well, not really tomorrow, but just go with it)


P.S.  Not too long ago, the lovely Janie Junebug passed on a list of 50 questions that she answered on her blog.  I decided to add them to my About Kinley Dane section, for those that want to learn all kinds of completely useless information about me.  So if you are feeling particularly bored…feel free to peruse: About Kinley Dane.


20 thoughts on “Good Night, Love Ya, See You Tomorrow…

  1. I understand that mixed feelings. This was a nice tribute to him. But wait, he hung your favorite doll from the ceiling light? Like, on a noose? Are you sure he wasn’t a secret serial killer? And you did the 50 questions!?! Are you masochistic?
    Well, anyway, spaghetti to you.


    • Yes, he definitely did. Noose and all. I just remember standing there in horror, while he snickered and giggled in my doorway. Sigh.

      It felt masochistic as I worked my way through the questions…they were harder to answer than I thought! But now I’m happy that there is tons of completely useless information on my About Me page so it looks like I put serious thought into it.

      Spaghetti! Thanks for that 🙂


  2. Spaghetti! That’s awesome. Isn’t it amazing that the things we think annoy us at the time are the things we miss the most when they’re gone?

    And ah yes, parental guilt. My whole life, my mother cleaned on Mondays. Every Monday, no matter if she was sick, dying, working all day, etc. So not a Monday passes that I don’t feel at least a little guilty for not deep cleaning everything.


    • Our thorough cleaning day was Saturday, so I definitely feel that! And now I as an adult don’t have even HAVE a thorough cleaning day, as it’s more of a do it when it needs it kind of thing. My house is perfectly clean, but nevertheless I feel a twinge of guilt every Saturday.


  3. What a wonderful tribute to your dad! I think we all have issues with our parents, but we love them in spite of those things. (And I’m sure my small people feel the same about me LOL)


    • Yes, I definitely loved him in spite of what a pain he could be, ha ha. And really, our issues were more of a funny story than anything serious, so I don’t even know if you could call them issues 🙂


  4. I’m going to stick my neck out and say your dad probably had a good reason for hanging your doll. I think he sensed it needed to be hung. And I hope you’ve not given up the eye-rolling thing. I can guarantee I would laugh my head off if you rolled your eyes at me!


    • You sure you want to stick your neck out? Only makes a noose all the easier to fit…

      Now, someone laughing at eye rolling would not make it satisfying at all! We professional eye rollers need an angry reaction in order for our art to be truly appreciated.


  5. The doll hanging thing aside, I understand missing your dad. I can’t believe how long it’s been since my parents died (20+ years). I don’t remember many bad things about my dad, but my mom was in charge so I have more good and bad memories of her. Re: the decoration of the Christmas tree: I didn’t have to follow rules because I wasn’t allowed to hang anything on the tree. I wouldn’t do it “right”. I enjoyed your answers to the fifty questions. You are a brave lady. I hate the question “How much do you weigh?”. When I was skinny, I would have answered it because I’m a show off. Now, I’m irate that anyone would ask such a question.



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