Father’s Day is fast approaching. For many of us we have no
father to send a card, or give a gift or give a call to, or even visit. This is
my first year in that position and it is hard to swallow, as I am sure for many
of us it is.
First of all, let me tell you that my dad was just like the
man in the Brad Paisley song He Didn’t
Have to Be. I was 7 years old when my stepfather adopted me and my
siblings. I was so young when my parents split up that I don’t even remember my
natural father, and I never got to meet him, although I did call him a few
times and exchange letters sporadically. I had to find out through Ancestry.com
that he had died because no one knew to contact me.
But my dad, now he was different. He always seemed to know
what I was interested in and what I was doing. He went to the opening night of
the community theater plays I was in and clapped the loudest and cheered in
spite of being extremely hard of hearing. I was in 4-H from the 4th
grade on and he knew when I was eligible to go to state competitions. Since my ‘thing’
was sewing, he bought me my very own sewing machine- a really nice sewing
machine. I used it for 14 years before I finally wore it out.
As a very young child, in kindergarten, I contracted every
illness that came down the track, not unlike many kids when they start school.
I had the mumps and chickenpox just a few months apart, but I don’t remember
which one was first. I do remember that I was very ill and I had been sleeping
a lot. I woke up in the late afternoon one day and had a teddy bear almost as
big as I was in the recliner with me. I loved it. I had it until after I had my
first child. When we moved it had to go. It had little to no fur left and one
eye and an ear were missing. Most of the stuffing had fallen out over the years
too. It was a sad looking thing!
He went fishing nearly every weekend and when we got to go
along it was a real treat. He’d turn off the radio and my sister, mother, and I
would harmonize with him and we would sing all the way there and back home
again. It was a lot of fun.
In later years he told me to always remember when I went out
on a date that the headlights in the rearview mirror might be his! It kept me
on the straight and narrow, I’ll tell you that. They never were his of course,
but I always looked.
He walked me down the aisle when I got married and gave me
away to my fiancé. My youngest son shares his first name. He was there to talk to
when I needed him until the end. His illness was short that took him from me
and our family, and even though hard as I tried to get there, I couldn’t. He
knew I was on the way but he just couldn’t hold on any longer. I’ll never get
over that. I’ll never again hear him yell when talking to my mom on the
telephone, “Hey baby!” because he couldn’t hear me. I miss him all the time.
Happy Father’s Day Daddy wherever you are. And to all of you
who have fathers still around, go see your dad, or call him, and let him know
you love him. Never let time go by when he doesn’t know, because one day, he
won’t be there.
