To every man who is father… To every woman who is a single parent… to every brother and sister who watches over their siblings… to every teacher and pastor who has mentored a fatherless child… and, to anyone else who has ever provided fatherly support to another person… Thank you. You make life easier for kids on the bumpy road from newborn to adulthood by giving them a role model to emulate. Adults need fathers too – just to keep them on track and provide understanding and support. Again, thank you… you are very special people.
My father was my Daddy. He wasn’t Father or Pops, he was Daddy. In adulthood, I usually called him Dad when other people were around, but he was really still my Daddy. I was the only girl child in a family of five, so I was the only one who called him that. And he was different with me than he was the boys. Ohhh… don’t say that to him because he will deny it vehemently, but I have proof.
In California
“Why?” my tiny voice asked.
“Because your grades will go down if you start driving.” Good answer I thought. But, the boys were always just barely passing. So… if I start failing, maybe I can have my license??? I didn’t say the words out loud. On the other hand, I was proud that Daddy was concerned about me as a student. Arguing with Daddy was never fruitful. So I accepted his answer.
Years later, after I had left home, I found out that Daddy’s statement ended up being an argument between my parents that lasted for years. I got past it. I still didn’t have my license because I had moved to the city where public transportation was excellent. Cars were costly and I didn’t need the expense.
On my 21st birthday, Daddy surprised me when he came to my house, picked me up and took me to DMV to finally get the coveted privilege to drive. I was married and had a baby by that time. I wasn’t really missing my license. But, he took time from work and that was quite a birthday gift from my work-a-holic father.
We spent the afternoon together and over lunch I asked him why I had to wait five years for him give me permission – which I no longer needed. He looked a little sheepish while the words spilled out…
“Several reasons – first I was afraid you might stop focusing on school and your grades would suffer.
Second, I can’t protect you from other drivers.
Third, I couldn’t let you take the next step in the ladder to growing up.”
I told him about how unfair it was that he treated me differently from the boys. His response was simple –
“But, you ARE different from the boys.” How can you argue with logic like that? I didn’t care. He was my protector. He was my Daddy.
Happy Father’s Day to all Daddys out there!
Do you have a “Daddy” story? Please post it in the comments so we can celebrate fatherhood together.
6 comments:
Oh, I definitely have a daddy story - you can read about it here
http://alcoholicdaze.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-dad.html
Thanks for sharing yours.
What a wonderful story. You were so blessed to have hm as your Daddy! If you have trouble getting to the link try www.alcoholicdaze.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-dad.html
My father taught me about fishing and boating. I have written several posts about him over the years. I will put one up today.
Thanks, Syd... I'm excited to read it!
My Dad story is simple. Oh, if only I had listened to him! And one more - if only I could give him one last BIG hug!
My father was my best friend. We talked on the phone every night for twenty plus years. Sometimes it was short (I love you, goodnight), sometimes long, sometimes heated (cos we both were hot headed).... He has been gone eleven years and I too wish that I could give him one more hug....or cry on his shoulder when things are hard.
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