The daughters of Dangerous Donny

With a borrowed truck, three chainsaws and some bodies, we successfully bucked up (a newfound term that I love to use as regularly as possible) approximately seven truckloads of wood, which are now piled high in my driveway. It took Dad, Uncle and a few wonderful other people roughly five straight hours of manual labour, but Ladies and gents, I will now survive the winter! With the exception of desperately needing winter tires, I say, bring it on snow!

The labourers were paid in soup (containing meat) and beer and will additionally have some hard alcohol in thanks. Because I am thankful that I can call friends and family at a moments notice to come help. Dad, especially, has always been great at that.

Admittedly, due to a blended family (I hate that word) I am not at all as close to my Dad as I had once been. All three of us girls have lived with our dad without the other two sisters at one point in time. Megan, Shawna and I have all been referred to as one the McNeil girls, knowing that Donny’s two other girls currently lived elsewhere. I was a teenager where for two weeks out of the month I essentially lived on my own, because Dad did shift work at Pope & Talbot Sawmill. I would see remnants of him during the week: A lit wood stove, dinner in the slow cooker and always an empty coffee cup by his recliner. Donny Mac, was the Dad my friends were afraid of, as he wasn’t hesitant to put you in your place, Daughter or friend. 

As children the three of us remember camping trips and fishing in his blue tin boat – he would recline in his snazzy chair and sip beer while three of us held out our rods. Chores growing up consisted of mowing our large yard and going for firewood.  Boy did he ever yell as us when we didn’t move the seat back after borrowing his car. Despite him working a lot, I never felt that he was absent from my life. Dad was never afraid to give up crap when needed, but also praise us when deserved.  

He’s now taken on the role of Grandpa for a few of my sister’s children, but he’s adopted the Dad name once again, with two step daughters and a son all who are in the same age groups as his grandchildren. This is no surprise as he was an amazing father growing up.

I think Shawna and Megan would agree that this has been justifiably difficult as for particular reasons that I would not care to get into. As you would know from a past post, us McNeil girls do not air our dirty laundry for the world to see. As Dad took on his new role and responsibility as well as a bit of crazy, it seemed that I started to unknowingly distance him from my life. I have absolutely no shortage of love in my life. There are so many friends and relatives who support and love me that  if this means that I need to take a few steps back to allow my Dad to be happy and his partner to be happy, then I’m okay with this. 

He still emails me, and we talk shop often, and I get advice from him as we both now work in the forestry industry, and he’s always here when I need him to be – like when I asked to borrow his truck, his chainsaw and his manpower for five hours firewood-ing. 

I simply feel more of a guest when I visit, Hugo stays at home (which almost never happens), photo’s on his wall are of the next generation of loves in his life rather than us three girls, and we don’t see each other in person as much as we once have. I still love him, and I know he loves me just as much and I know this is just how it needs to be for a little while.

In all honestly, choosing to not do this something ultimately made me happier, too. I think this is all part of adulating.

Kindly

Kirstin

If you want to fly, give everything up that weighs your down. - Unknown