Daddy's Girl

So, it looks as though my car will soon be undergoing some pseudo-intense work, as all signs seem to point toward a (yikes) new transmission. From what I hear, this is the proverbial death sentence for car, but my mom thinks I should wait until I have a solid income to take on the mammoth responsibility of a car payment. I've been secretly praying for my car to somehow fix itself, but, as that doesn't seem likely to happen, I'm praying that I will somehow come up with the money to do the necessary repairs and also that my transmission won't fall out on the highway.
Over the past two weeks, I've spent more time than I wish to contemplate in various garages and automotive warehouses. I've surrendered my keys more times than I can count, and I've shaken many a grease-stained hand. Throughout this whole process, one thought keeps creeping into my head.
I miss my dad.
Of course, not a day goes by that I don't think about him or have his memory triggered by some inconsequential word or happening. During these last few weeks, however, his absence has just been so marked and so noticeable, for the automotive world was something with which he was so skilled and so comfortable. I know if he was here he would have fixed my car or quickly taken the appropriate steps to make sure it was safe and secure, and I could have trusted that he would make sure I was taken care of.
Instead, I'm in way over my head, and I'm getting different information from every source. This is not the first time (and I can guarantee it won't be the last) that I have wished he was here to tell me what to do, to point me in the right direction.
Sometimes I can't believe that I haven't heard his voice in over fourteen years because it feels like yesterday that I was sitting beside him on the couch, playing with his moustache. It seems odd that I'm wishing he was here to help me with a problem with my car when he never even saw me drive a car. Ironic, yes?
I guess I just wish he was here to help me with all the little things, for that would mean he was here for all the big things, too. I've learned to deal with how much I miss him on the big days, but it's the unexpected instances that creep up out of nowhere that are the hardest to sustain. On days like today, when I stare into the void and realize all over again that he's not coming back, it hits me so hard it almost knocks the wind out of me. I don't think that feeling will ever go away, and I don't think it will ever get any easier.
I love you, Dad, and I miss you so much.