DadDecember 5, 1950 - November 11, 2004
(this is my favorite picture of him)
(this is my favorite picture of him)
Yesterday when I was talking to my mom, she was telling me about the cake and potato salad she was making my brother for Father's Day. I told her that I tend to block out Father's Day now that I no longer have a dad.
My dad and I didn't always see eye-to-eye. I didn't agree with some of his choices; he thought I was too straight and narrow. But underneath it all, I was always Daddy's little girl and I know he was always very proud of me.
(Daddy's girl since Day 1)
It's been hard for me to have him gone. There have definitely been times I could have used his advice. There have been times I have wanted to call him and share the latest corny joke I heard because I knew he would love it. After James proposed, it broke my heart he wouldn't be there to walk me down the aisle-I could picture him bursting with pride, grinning ear-to-ear, but also with a hint of sadness in his eyes as he gave me away. Even now, I can't think about that without tearing up. And after James died, I definitely could have used my daddy to help pick up the pieces and tell me what the Hell it is I am supposed to do now.
From my father I inherited my stubborn streak and refusal to ask for help. My dry-wit and my aptitude for numbers come from him too. He could do math in his head like no one I have ever met. Growing up, we used to give Dad a hard time for making enough spaghetti to last a week-now I do the same thing. Dad taught me how to check my oil and my tire pressure. He would bring home large pieces of plywood so I had a surface big enough for my jigsaw puzzles. He would let me grow "science experiments" in the fridge. He pushed me to get good grades because he wanted me to go to college-he wanted me to be able to stand on my own and be able to have a good life for myself. He convinced me that I could do anything I set my mind too if I just tried hard enough. He was a man that would stand outside barbecuing in the middle of January because I wanted BBQ hamburgers for my birthday dinner. He would hate that I put mustard in my Deviled eggs.
(The source of my silliness-and my squinty eyes)
He was a strong, hard-working, proud man and I know I get my strength from him. I am proud to have been his little girl and I miss him dearly.
My dad and I didn't always see eye-to-eye. I didn't agree with some of his choices; he thought I was too straight and narrow. But underneath it all, I was always Daddy's little girl and I know he was always very proud of me.
(Daddy's girl since Day 1)It's been hard for me to have him gone. There have definitely been times I could have used his advice. There have been times I have wanted to call him and share the latest corny joke I heard because I knew he would love it. After James proposed, it broke my heart he wouldn't be there to walk me down the aisle-I could picture him bursting with pride, grinning ear-to-ear, but also with a hint of sadness in his eyes as he gave me away. Even now, I can't think about that without tearing up. And after James died, I definitely could have used my daddy to help pick up the pieces and tell me what the Hell it is I am supposed to do now.
From my father I inherited my stubborn streak and refusal to ask for help. My dry-wit and my aptitude for numbers come from him too. He could do math in his head like no one I have ever met. Growing up, we used to give Dad a hard time for making enough spaghetti to last a week-now I do the same thing. Dad taught me how to check my oil and my tire pressure. He would bring home large pieces of plywood so I had a surface big enough for my jigsaw puzzles. He would let me grow "science experiments" in the fridge. He pushed me to get good grades because he wanted me to go to college-he wanted me to be able to stand on my own and be able to have a good life for myself. He convinced me that I could do anything I set my mind too if I just tried hard enough. He was a man that would stand outside barbecuing in the middle of January because I wanted BBQ hamburgers for my birthday dinner. He would hate that I put mustard in my Deviled eggs.
(The source of my silliness-and my squinty eyes)He was a strong, hard-working, proud man and I know I get my strength from him. I am proud to have been his little girl and I miss him dearly.
3 comments:
There is definitely some family resemblance there. I've never seen a picture of your dad before, but I can just tell I would have liked him. You have written a wonderful tribute to him.
What wonderful pictures and a beautiful story. He is VERY proud of you Heather and is always watching over you!!!
Thanks for sharing.
(((HUGS)))
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