Father…Dad…Daddy—these words evoke strong emotion in children, whether the child is two or 42. A father can make a child smile or cry with a simple look. The power of a father is infinite. When a father lifts you up, you feel like you can conquer the world. When he lets you fall, it feels as though the world falls with you.
Today, on Father’s Day, I’d like to pay a special tribute to my own dad. I spoke to him on the phone this morning and had a lovely chat with him for about half an hour. Because we live 350 miles from one another I won’t be seeing him today, but I wish I could. I’d love to take him to lunch, or just sit and talk with him face to face. But, as with so many people, the phone simply had to do.
I don’t remember Father’s Day when I was a child. Sure, I have snippets of memories of myself making homemade gifts for him when I was a small child. I painted a rock one time, and have a fleeting memory of hiding in the garage and wrapping something (likely one of my own toys) in a napkin to give to him. But I don’t remember the details. I sometimes wonder what he remembers, if there are any years in particular that stand out in his mind, in his memory.
I don’t remember my baby years, of course. But my mother tells me that my dad would wake up early to feed my sister and I (I’m a twin) before going to work in the morning, just because he wanted to. He was in the delivery room when I was born, he played with me at night, he loved me…always.
What I remember most are the Saturdays before my parents divorced. I remember waking up to the sound of oldies on the radio. The music was turned up loud enough for dancing, and it started the weekend off just right. Many times we’d make doughnuts on Saturdays—just my dad and us kids. We’d make them out of biscuit dough and would cut the holes out with baby bottle caps. Then he’d fry them up and we’d roll them in powdered sugar. I don’t remember the taste of the doughnuts; I just remember how it felt to spend time with my dad.
As I grew older, my parents divorced and time with my dad became less. We didn’t wake up on Saturdays to the radio anymore, and we didn’t make any more doughnuts. But what I remember throughout my adolescent years is my dad’s calm way of letting me know things would be okay. I wasn’t a “bad” kid by any means, but I talked back from time to time, and, as with any kid who faces divorce, wasn’t entirely sure of my place in the world for a while. Even though my dad didn’t live with us anymore, he still called us, every night without fail, if just to say he loved us. He picked us up for dinners on Wednesdays and we stayed over every Friday night.
Eventually I grew up and went to college—then I moved a state away to join my sister. I can only imagine how that felt to him, to have both of his daughters gone. My dad walked me down the aisle when I got married a few years later. The year after that, I gave birth to my first child. When I called my dad to let him know the baby was coming, he hopped in his car and six hours later was at the hospital with me. Three years later with the birth of my daughter, he was there again. He was in the room with me when my epidural wore off. He sat beside me while I was in the greatest pain of my life, and somehow his presence made things a little easier. He saw both of my children moments after they were born, and was there for the births of my siblings’ children as well.
I guess that’s what sums it up best—he was there, always.
And so on Father’s Day, I’d like to say thank you, to my dad, and to all the dad’s who care enough to know about their children’s lives, who pick up the phone when they’re busy and call just to say I love you, who praise their children for their accomplishments, and don’t rub their noses in their failures, who teach their children to conquer the world.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I appreciate the words you’ve spoken–in guidance, in knowledge, and in friendship, the small moments in my life that you’ve noticed, the times you’ve simply hugged me when I needed it, the phone calls that still come often. And for all the little moments of my life that you may have forgotten, which touched my life profoundly, thank you. I love you.