Saturday, June 14, 2014

Daddy's Little Girl

From my teenaged years on I was a Mama's Girl. My Mama and I spent a lot of time together after my brother and sister were gone and so naturally we were very close.

But, once upon a time, when I was a wee little girl....my heart belonged completely to Daddy.

According to legend, I learned my Daddy's phone number when I was 3 or 4 years old and I would call him at work daily to let him know what kind of candy bar I wanted him to bring me that day.

And, he always did.

My Mama cut off all my hair when I was around the same age. I stood by the road waiting for Daddy to come home so he could see what she had done to me. I was pretty sure she was going to get into big time trouble.

Many nights I would fall asleep laying beside Mama in their bed and somehow, magically almost, I would wake up in my bed. Determined to find out how this happened I pretended to sleep one night. Before I knew it I felt myself lifted up into the air in the strong arms of my Daddy. I peeped at his handsome face as he carried me gently to my own bed.

There were many years when I felt distant from him. During those teenaged years when life is hard enough, my Daddy also went through a hard time. And while I was trying to grow into myself and figure out who I was, he suddenly questioned the same thing about himself.

Those difficult days made it hard for us to have that comfortable relationship that we had when I was small.

Many years later when there was increasing health problems, I spent a lot of time driving him back and forth to different appointments. That was a time that was also almost magical. Because during that time, I got to know him not just as my Daddy, but as a man.

There are certain things that a mother places inside of us. I sense her in the way I deal with my family, the way I touch those that I love, and the way I want everyone I love to FEEL loved.

There is a strength in me that comes straight from my Daddy. There is a sense of self that I owe to him alone. In crisis situations at work I can feel all that he was pour through me as clarity infuses me and I can move through the situation with direction and poise.

Daddy did that.

It was my Daddy that caused me to realize that I didn't have to be where I was. It was the prodding of my mother's voice in my head that made me move forward, but it was his backbone that stiffened my resolve and made me stay the course.

I won't sit around and say my parents were perfect. But, they were perfect for me.

One of my favorite times with my Daddy was the last weekend I saw him alive. He was always such a huge presence. I could literally say his name and have people's eyes bulge out (yes, I did that, too). Towards the end there was a gentleness that also came to him, a playfulness that I enjoyed so much.

He and I sat in the kitchen that Saturday after I picked them up from dialysis. He was in his wheelchair and I was leaning on the counter. We ate a whole jar of pickles. haha

He kept saying, "Baby, I know I shouldn't eat these.....Let me have one more."

And, we would giggle.

I laid on the couch and we talked and talked. He would wheel up close to me, trying to see my face through eyes that really didn't see much anymore and we talked some more.

That last morning when I was getting ready to leave, he was already in the living room in his chair. We talked and I asked him if I could get him anything.

"Yeah. Can you fix me an egg sandwich?"

Of course.

I stood at the stove frying an egg and listened to my Daddy in the living room talking to his Father.

"Oh God, thank you for my family. Thank you for the love we have. God, you have been so good to me. I just love you. I have been so blessed."

I fried that egg with tears rolling down my face.

A few minutes later I kissed my Daddy goodbye for the last time. By Tuesday night he was gone.

Tomorrow is Father's Day. It's a day set aside to honor our fathers, to thank them for the love that we have been shown, and to show our gratitude for all the sacrifices they make for us.

My Father's Days are past me now. But, I hope that every day of my life I give honor to the man who was my father. I hope that my life would make him proud, and I am thankful every day for the strength and the courage that I inherited from him.

I will always be my Daddy's girl. I love and miss you, Daddy.

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