Finding bliss could be as easy as doing something you don't like to do.
Day 9: 2/9/14
There is something about a basketball court that will always remind me of my father, the sounds of the heavy thumping of a dribbling ball, the constant movements of players all moving together, but probably mostly because of the smell of sweat. I was a brat as a kid, a super tall 10 year old brat, and a smelly sweaty gym was not my idea of a good time.
There was my dad, still trying to bask in the glory of his basketball past, trying to motivate his mija every way he could. I remember him coaching this defiant lil child in me raging against every drill or huddle, and there was my father, still trying. The last day I played I fell apart on the court, I can’t remember why, but a whole lot of yelling, gut yelling tantrums right there in front of my team and the rest of the tournament and all my father could do was let me walk off the court, somehow coaching the rest of the game with a smile on his face. As an adult now, I could only think of the embarrassment he felt, wanting to crawl under a rock, but he never brought it up again, this concept of his daughter playing his favorite past time, and I never picked up a basketball again.
It will be 20 years since my father has passed, and there isn’t a February that doesn’t pass by where he is always in the forefront of my mind, especially on his birthday 2/27, finding comfort in watching a game on TV and think about my father’s excitement and how much he just wanted to share his passion with me. I still remember him being like a child himself when he took my sister and I to the LA Forum to see the Lakers play the Bulls, “Mija, Jordan playing MAGIC…this is history, a game you will never forget!” and I haven’t. It’s still a memory, even if from the nosebleed section, that my father lived to share with us.
We never get to choose these passions our loved ones have, passions we can not relate to, but sometimes sharing the passions they love gives us the chance to see them happy. In those sharing moments with my father I always thought of him as happy, and those are the memories I will always hold dear.