My Dad
Dear J.,
I love my dad, J. Most people generally do. But he is a special man. Most people think that too. I have always said that he is the perfect dad....for me. God knew just who to give me for a dad. My dad is my protector, my friend and he has always been there for me. He would take me everywhere and he taught me alot about people. And God.
He would come to see me in my school programs. He'd take me hiking, fishing, shooting, traveling, and anything else in between. He didn't, however, take me to the doctor. My mother was awarded that duty. He preferred to be the one I'd come home to to tell him how bad the visit was. He would always offer sympathy and hugs.
I spent many hours on his lap while he rocked us both in his rocker. Most night, he'd go to bed and I'd climb in beside him, wrapped up in his arms. That is, until my mom came and woke me up or carried me to bed. He would "lecture" me about life, and people, and boys. He started that conversation as early as he could. I barely knew what a boy was when he started telling me what a boy wanted. And that was ONE THING. That's what I called it for a long time. ONE THING. And he let me know that they would do ANYTHING and say ANYTHING to get it. That is true. But not ALL boys wanted just ONE THING. Some of them wanted TWO THINGS.
He enjoyed being with me and I enjoyed (and still do) being with him. I loved to tag along and he never minded. He often invited me to go places. He never left me without telling me. That was something my mom did alot. He was on a pretty tight schedule, my dad. He left for work at the same time everyday and he came home at the same time everyday. And he usually took the same route. When I was little and even through grade school, I would make it home just before he did. I'd climb the tree outside the house and wait for him. When I heard his car come around the corner, I'd get real still and wait for him. Sometimes he'd come straight to the tree looking for me. When he found me, I'd giggle and we'd laugh. Other days, he might go straight inside to use the restroom. He had only one good functioning kidney and that meant he had to accommodate his body not make his body accommodate him. But in a few minutes, he'd be out the door, looking for "his girl". On a rare occasion, he might get sidetracked. My mother would look out the window and see me waiting....and knowing how stubborn I was and how much I looked forward to it, she'd have to remind my father (and not always nicely) that he "forgot" about me. He'd come right out and I would be rewarded with him pretending he couldn't find me. Then he'd climb up the tree to "look" for me. And then, sometimes, I'd switch trees. That was fun. I loved to make him laugh.
He took me hunting....not very often. As much of a tomboy that I was, hunting didn't thrill me. And it was often frustrating as it meant I had to be quiet and sometimes, that was just impossible for me. I was a very vocal and opinionated child. People ALWAYS knew where they stood with me.
I remember walking the creek with him. He'd point out animal tracks. Or we'd canoe in the creek. Or just walk the trails looking for something to discover. He'd point out things about nature. How animals behaved and what they left behind. He'd show me how to mark a trail so that if I was ever lost in an area, I could find my way out. He taught me self defense in case someone took me. He taught me how to defend myself with my mind and with my body. He taught me psychology. He taught me about love. He demonstrated unconditional love. He taught me about commitment. He taught me about sin. He also taught me he wasn't perfect. He taught me to recognize a political liar. Which, by the way, tends to be all of those involved.
He taught me about Jesus and took me to church. When death entered in, he helped me understand and comprehend. He helped me deal with loss. He showed me about bad decisions.
He taught me about good decisions. He protected me from my mother. He taught me to be independent but to never give up on love. He tried to teach me how to protect my heart but I had to learn that lesson the hard way. He held my hand when my heart was broken. He always took a tear whenever I'd cry. He'd "save" it in his pocket. He drove me places despite it being inconvenient for him. When I got older and twisted my knee the first time, he was there to take me to the hospital. And there was more than one of those trips. He took me on my first plane trip. He drove me to state parks near and far and we'd hike and see the beautiful places God had created.
He cleaned his ears with a bobby pin or the end of his key. He was always jangling coins in his pocket (and he always had coins so that he could feed the coffee machine at his factory). If he wasn't jangling coins, he was playing with his car keys. He rarely "owned" a car. He was always trading up. He'd get to the last couple of payments and off he'd go and he'd come home with a new car. I caught that habit and I don't make it much past year two. Three times I have managed to hold onto a car about 4 years.
He would take me to the relatives to sell whatever the school was having me sell. Then he'd take me to deliver it and collect money. And he always bought from me. He told me many stories about his childhood and his days in the army. I have heard many of those stories many times. I can almost relate them by heart but I love, more than anything, to hear him tell me those stories. I learned from him. He learned from me. I learned to see the funny side of things. The good things. I learned that there was bad in the world. Where some parents protect their children from bad, mine showed me the bad and taught me about it. How else can you deal with it.
He encouraged me and I rewarded him with being a well behaved child. Most of the time. I had a few times of trouble but nothing compared to what other kids were doing. I worried about him. I never wanted to lose him. I once made a deal with God that if he would only let my father live to see his grandchildren, I would be happy. But they had to be my kids that he saw, not just my brothers'. I worried he would never see my graduation. He did. I worried that he'd never see me marry. He did. Too many times probably. I wanted to give him a granddaughter. He has one. When my brother had two girls, I asked God to allow me to give him a grandson. He did. For him, his granddaughter is a lookalike of his daughter. But she is her own person. It is fun for him to teach her the things he taught me and she is in love with him as I was at her age. She'd do anything for her papaw.
When I got old enough to drive, I saw the first of "reversals" take place. No longer did he drive me alot of places...I started driving him. He used to drag me to gun shows over the years....and I swore I wouldn't go to any when i got older. Now, I found myself driving him to the gun shows. When we took trips, I drove. It just tired him out. And my driving, well, it was nice for him to relax. He never demanded that I listen to his music. I liked most of his anyway but he let me listen to anything I wanted. (it spoiled me something awful--just ask my kids)
I swore I'd never leave him. I told each husband I would not leave my dad. Each one knew that that was the one thing they wouldn't ask me to do. But God had different plans for me. He moved me to Oklahoma. With tears in my eyes, my husband and I drove away and moved our family 800 miles away. Without my father. God taught me I could live without him around the corner and not in my eyesight every day. I miss him something terrible. When I go home, we fall into a familiar routine. I drive him places, take care of things for him, and he showers me with hugs. I love to go home and see him. He is losing his hearing and after years of fussing, he finally got a hearing aid. Now, if he will only wear it.
Every few months, I record a CD and send it to him. He loves to hear me sing. Not that I'm spectacular (if I was, I'd be making some money!), but I am good. He has always enjoyed listening to me. I enjoy making the CD for him.
He used to always help me financially. If I needed help, he was there to provide. Now, I help him. I have the money put directly into his account and he fusses at me to have it stopped. I refuse. It is a small amount but over the years, it has added up and it helps him. Like he helped me.
He and I planted tulips for a few years when I was growing up. It is one of his favorite flowers. It is also mine. It is a reminder of those times we spent planting. We often do things in ignorance too. Like the time we were driving home from visiting my brother in North Carolina. He saw a pine tree. He made me pull over and he just dug two of them right up out of the ground. He placed them in the back of the car and we headed home. I told him that he couldn't do that. That they would die. It was twelve hours to the house. We pulled up, and he planted those trees, fed them some Miracle-Gro and I'll be darned if they didn't start growing! They lived for years. I was impressed. And, in my own ignorance, I have also managed to keep some plants. I usually kill things that I want to live. (plants) So when we moved and I found that the owners had planted flowers that I didn't particularly care for, I dug them up. I tossed them over the creek line and was glad to be rid of them. I had killed them. NOT. The next spring, I noticed them popping up all over the side of the creek line. Right where they had landed the year before. Every year they pop up. As we speak, they have sprouted and will bloom within the next few weeks. I think they are day lilies. I call them "Back from the dead lilies".
I call my dad often and despite his hearing problem I enjoy every conversation. I still worry about him, especially since my mom has passed. I was always prepared for him to go first. Not my mother. It took me by surprise. Now I live in fear of losing my dad. I need to go home and see him but I just haven't been able to yet. I went home just before Christmas to see him. I rarely get home on the holidays anymore. As a matter of fact, we don't even traditionally celebrate Christmas any more. It has become a real celebration of Christ's birth but not what the world does as far as celebrating. I detest the music and the commercialism that exploits my Savior. My dad does too. We are alot alike, he and I. I have my mother's looks but my dad's freckles. I have his heart and his mind. I have his independence. I have made him proud. At least that is what he tells me. That is all I ask for.
I thank God for giving me my father. And for allowing me to see the kind of father he is. I am grateful God has shown me all he has done and that I appreciate it and show him as much. I love him so much it hurts. I would never dream of hurting him and rarely do. If I do, it is by accident. I am most unhappy if my father is displeased with me and I have, over the years, strived to keep his disappointment to a minimum. I can say so much more about my father, J., but I must stop writing for now. I'll re-visit him again later.
I love my dad, J. Most people generally do. But he is a special man. Most people think that too. I have always said that he is the perfect dad....for me. God knew just who to give me for a dad. My dad is my protector, my friend and he has always been there for me. He would take me everywhere and he taught me alot about people. And God.
He would come to see me in my school programs. He'd take me hiking, fishing, shooting, traveling, and anything else in between. He didn't, however, take me to the doctor. My mother was awarded that duty. He preferred to be the one I'd come home to to tell him how bad the visit was. He would always offer sympathy and hugs.
I spent many hours on his lap while he rocked us both in his rocker. Most night, he'd go to bed and I'd climb in beside him, wrapped up in his arms. That is, until my mom came and woke me up or carried me to bed. He would "lecture" me about life, and people, and boys. He started that conversation as early as he could. I barely knew what a boy was when he started telling me what a boy wanted. And that was ONE THING. That's what I called it for a long time. ONE THING. And he let me know that they would do ANYTHING and say ANYTHING to get it. That is true. But not ALL boys wanted just ONE THING. Some of them wanted TWO THINGS.
He enjoyed being with me and I enjoyed (and still do) being with him. I loved to tag along and he never minded. He often invited me to go places. He never left me without telling me. That was something my mom did alot. He was on a pretty tight schedule, my dad. He left for work at the same time everyday and he came home at the same time everyday. And he usually took the same route. When I was little and even through grade school, I would make it home just before he did. I'd climb the tree outside the house and wait for him. When I heard his car come around the corner, I'd get real still and wait for him. Sometimes he'd come straight to the tree looking for me. When he found me, I'd giggle and we'd laugh. Other days, he might go straight inside to use the restroom. He had only one good functioning kidney and that meant he had to accommodate his body not make his body accommodate him. But in a few minutes, he'd be out the door, looking for "his girl". On a rare occasion, he might get sidetracked. My mother would look out the window and see me waiting....and knowing how stubborn I was and how much I looked forward to it, she'd have to remind my father (and not always nicely) that he "forgot" about me. He'd come right out and I would be rewarded with him pretending he couldn't find me. Then he'd climb up the tree to "look" for me. And then, sometimes, I'd switch trees. That was fun. I loved to make him laugh.
He took me hunting....not very often. As much of a tomboy that I was, hunting didn't thrill me. And it was often frustrating as it meant I had to be quiet and sometimes, that was just impossible for me. I was a very vocal and opinionated child. People ALWAYS knew where they stood with me.
I remember walking the creek with him. He'd point out animal tracks. Or we'd canoe in the creek. Or just walk the trails looking for something to discover. He'd point out things about nature. How animals behaved and what they left behind. He'd show me how to mark a trail so that if I was ever lost in an area, I could find my way out. He taught me self defense in case someone took me. He taught me how to defend myself with my mind and with my body. He taught me psychology. He taught me about love. He demonstrated unconditional love. He taught me about commitment. He taught me about sin. He also taught me he wasn't perfect. He taught me to recognize a political liar. Which, by the way, tends to be all of those involved.
He taught me about Jesus and took me to church. When death entered in, he helped me understand and comprehend. He helped me deal with loss. He showed me about bad decisions.
He taught me about good decisions. He protected me from my mother. He taught me to be independent but to never give up on love. He tried to teach me how to protect my heart but I had to learn that lesson the hard way. He held my hand when my heart was broken. He always took a tear whenever I'd cry. He'd "save" it in his pocket. He drove me places despite it being inconvenient for him. When I got older and twisted my knee the first time, he was there to take me to the hospital. And there was more than one of those trips. He took me on my first plane trip. He drove me to state parks near and far and we'd hike and see the beautiful places God had created.
He cleaned his ears with a bobby pin or the end of his key. He was always jangling coins in his pocket (and he always had coins so that he could feed the coffee machine at his factory). If he wasn't jangling coins, he was playing with his car keys. He rarely "owned" a car. He was always trading up. He'd get to the last couple of payments and off he'd go and he'd come home with a new car. I caught that habit and I don't make it much past year two. Three times I have managed to hold onto a car about 4 years.
He would take me to the relatives to sell whatever the school was having me sell. Then he'd take me to deliver it and collect money. And he always bought from me. He told me many stories about his childhood and his days in the army. I have heard many of those stories many times. I can almost relate them by heart but I love, more than anything, to hear him tell me those stories. I learned from him. He learned from me. I learned to see the funny side of things. The good things. I learned that there was bad in the world. Where some parents protect their children from bad, mine showed me the bad and taught me about it. How else can you deal with it.
He encouraged me and I rewarded him with being a well behaved child. Most of the time. I had a few times of trouble but nothing compared to what other kids were doing. I worried about him. I never wanted to lose him. I once made a deal with God that if he would only let my father live to see his grandchildren, I would be happy. But they had to be my kids that he saw, not just my brothers'. I worried he would never see my graduation. He did. I worried that he'd never see me marry. He did. Too many times probably. I wanted to give him a granddaughter. He has one. When my brother had two girls, I asked God to allow me to give him a grandson. He did. For him, his granddaughter is a lookalike of his daughter. But she is her own person. It is fun for him to teach her the things he taught me and she is in love with him as I was at her age. She'd do anything for her papaw.
When I got old enough to drive, I saw the first of "reversals" take place. No longer did he drive me alot of places...I started driving him. He used to drag me to gun shows over the years....and I swore I wouldn't go to any when i got older. Now, I found myself driving him to the gun shows. When we took trips, I drove. It just tired him out. And my driving, well, it was nice for him to relax. He never demanded that I listen to his music. I liked most of his anyway but he let me listen to anything I wanted. (it spoiled me something awful--just ask my kids)
I swore I'd never leave him. I told each husband I would not leave my dad. Each one knew that that was the one thing they wouldn't ask me to do. But God had different plans for me. He moved me to Oklahoma. With tears in my eyes, my husband and I drove away and moved our family 800 miles away. Without my father. God taught me I could live without him around the corner and not in my eyesight every day. I miss him something terrible. When I go home, we fall into a familiar routine. I drive him places, take care of things for him, and he showers me with hugs. I love to go home and see him. He is losing his hearing and after years of fussing, he finally got a hearing aid. Now, if he will only wear it.
Every few months, I record a CD and send it to him. He loves to hear me sing. Not that I'm spectacular (if I was, I'd be making some money!), but I am good. He has always enjoyed listening to me. I enjoy making the CD for him.
He used to always help me financially. If I needed help, he was there to provide. Now, I help him. I have the money put directly into his account and he fusses at me to have it stopped. I refuse. It is a small amount but over the years, it has added up and it helps him. Like he helped me.
He and I planted tulips for a few years when I was growing up. It is one of his favorite flowers. It is also mine. It is a reminder of those times we spent planting. We often do things in ignorance too. Like the time we were driving home from visiting my brother in North Carolina. He saw a pine tree. He made me pull over and he just dug two of them right up out of the ground. He placed them in the back of the car and we headed home. I told him that he couldn't do that. That they would die. It was twelve hours to the house. We pulled up, and he planted those trees, fed them some Miracle-Gro and I'll be darned if they didn't start growing! They lived for years. I was impressed. And, in my own ignorance, I have also managed to keep some plants. I usually kill things that I want to live. (plants) So when we moved and I found that the owners had planted flowers that I didn't particularly care for, I dug them up. I tossed them over the creek line and was glad to be rid of them. I had killed them. NOT. The next spring, I noticed them popping up all over the side of the creek line. Right where they had landed the year before. Every year they pop up. As we speak, they have sprouted and will bloom within the next few weeks. I think they are day lilies. I call them "Back from the dead lilies".
I call my dad often and despite his hearing problem I enjoy every conversation. I still worry about him, especially since my mom has passed. I was always prepared for him to go first. Not my mother. It took me by surprise. Now I live in fear of losing my dad. I need to go home and see him but I just haven't been able to yet. I went home just before Christmas to see him. I rarely get home on the holidays anymore. As a matter of fact, we don't even traditionally celebrate Christmas any more. It has become a real celebration of Christ's birth but not what the world does as far as celebrating. I detest the music and the commercialism that exploits my Savior. My dad does too. We are alot alike, he and I. I have my mother's looks but my dad's freckles. I have his heart and his mind. I have his independence. I have made him proud. At least that is what he tells me. That is all I ask for.
I thank God for giving me my father. And for allowing me to see the kind of father he is. I am grateful God has shown me all he has done and that I appreciate it and show him as much. I love him so much it hurts. I would never dream of hurting him and rarely do. If I do, it is by accident. I am most unhappy if my father is displeased with me and I have, over the years, strived to keep his disappointment to a minimum. I can say so much more about my father, J., but I must stop writing for now. I'll re-visit him again later.
posted by Unknown | 12:35 PM
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