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Eliza Lynn Taylor

Eliza Lynn Taylor
Eliza Lynn Taylor Freelance Writer

Friday, June 17, 2016

A Father's Day Tribute



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 fiancĂ©. 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.