Your father is my REAL “father” hero.
From the moment you entered the world (or for you, son, within an hour) he was with you all the way. In the wee hours of the morning he would lift you, crying, from the bassinet and change you, quiet you, and bring you to me for nursing.
I see the pack of you in the front seat of his panel truck. He would snuggle the smallest next to him. The rest would line up along the front seat.* You were his constant companions: when I went to the store, he stayed at home with you. When he went to the store, you went with him. He had many jobs as he climbed the ladder of his career, but he manipulated the hours in each to be at ball games and school programs.
I’m sure you got your love of pop tarts, doughnuts and Lucky Charms from the weekend mornings when he would feed you breakfast.
He coached you, he coddled you, and behind the scenes he championed each of you no matter what. Remember the school “parent’s night” when he emptied the room by annihilating the women who hurt the feelings of his ”little girl”? And he still only grudgingly speaks to the man who left “his boy” out of all-stars because of a conflict between the two coaches.
He has never believed anything bad of any one of you. He is sure that you didn’t touch alcohol or drugs in high school or college. He knows you were the smartest, the prettiest, the most agile, and the most deserving of praise. No one dares criticize you in his presence. He basks in the sunshine of your successes and is in awe of your abilities and capabilities.
He could never refuse you. He still can’t, by the way!
When you want to feel cherished, think of your Dad’s love.
* Sorry, there were no car seats in those days.
June 21, 2009