Daddy’s Girl – © 2001

Written ABOUT Moe, by his first daughter. Tends to make a man proud. Printed WITH permission of the author. It’s enough to give a guy a swelled head.

I believe the last line is a subtle reference to a piece I wrote about her called “She”.

Daddy’s Girl – © 2001

My father will be forty-eight years old this November. He has a beautiful grandson, two teenagers, and two young adults that are far from being independent of their father. He did not have to raise us; he did not have to be the single caretaker to four children. He never dreamt he would someday be shopping for bras or having his oldest son arrested. He has humbled himself to provide for his children, and he has come through it all a shining example of what a father is supposed to be. Over the past ten years, my father has grown into the position of Daddy, role model, provider, supporter, caretaker, friend, teacher, and nurturer. For the last year and a half, I have watched my father’s health waver and listen to him talk of moving out of state, and it has forced me to face the reality that Daddy may not always be there for me. In light of this realization, I cling to the lessons my father has struggled so hard to teach me. Daddy has taught me to be true to myself, have faith in God, and how to love.

Daddy has taught me to be who I am regardless of how others may view me. Dad never seems to care if people think he is odd, and he definitely has his moments of eccentricity. It is as if he follows his own set of rules or perhaps no rules at all. I was born to a family of atypical people, and that which used to be a source of embarrassment has become a source of pride. My dad taught me that being a non-conformist simply means being an individual with my own set of values. I am able to live my life answering only to God and myself, and I can live with being thought of as abnormal because of this.

In addition to being true to myself, my dad has taught me faith. Dad never really took us to church, but he shared his faith with us. He never discouraged us from seeking our own truths as long as we were looking in the right places. He was there to tell us what we wanted to know, and support us as we sought our own answers. I do not remember ever doubting that God is real and that he is with me. Most importantly, Dad taught me that God tells me what I need to know if I simply listen to him.

As well as passing along his faith, my dad has taught me how to love. I was privileged to watch my father learn how to be a father. Even though I may never have received the same affections as my youngest siblings, I can see his love for me through his love for them. I understand that telling someone that you love him is not the only way to say it. I recognize that everyone shows his love in his own way and in his own language. My dad shows his love when he maneuvers through responsibilities of raising four children. He does not have to hold me for me to feel his warmth. He has held my hand through every battle I have ever needed to fight and every dream I thought I could accomplish. I may not have always understood his way of expressing emotions, but I have always known that he cares.

My Daddy is in no immediate danger of leaving me here to fend for myself, but I would rather tell him what he means to me way too soon than a few seconds too late. It seems impossible to me that I could become the person I am meant to become without my father holding my hand. I suppose that when I figure out how to let go of his hand a little I will finally be on my way to growing up. I guess am stumbling into adulthood, not yet ready to fly away.

Sorry, comments are closed for this post.