Friday, June 17, 2011

Remembering My Dad

       I really don't need a holiday to remember my dad. There isn't a day that goes by, that his memory doesn't find its way into my thoughts...and I'm so happy for the memories.

       For as far back as I could recall, he's always been my favorite person, and I, his. This was always apparent when you observed the instant glow on our faces when we were together. I didn't know it then, but in retrospect, he was my best friend. Sometimes I wish I would have realized it sooner, but I hope that he knew. I think he did. From the time I could talk, to the last time I spoke to him, I've always told him just what was on my mind. I can't imagine what a 4 year old could say for hours on end, but he always listened with an attentive ear and a welcoming smile.

       Even when he scolded me, it was done with love, patience and understanding. I was never fearful of getting yelled at, or of getting in any type of major trouble with him. Nevertheless, I never wanted to disappoint him.
His method was always the same; he would always get my side of the story, and we would talk through it. He'd somehow show me the error in my ways, and we'd end with me vowing to do better next time. My heart was always heavy afterward, because I knew I had disappointed him. But before long, I was back in his good graces, as he showered me with reassuring hugs and kisses. I was still and always would be his "little girl."

       The day we buried my father, everything seemed to be happening outside of me. I was a spectator watching someone who looked like me, felt how I was feeling, burying their father, their best friend. Voices were faint; faces somewhat of a blurr. All the emotions come rushing back as I write this, yet the memories are still quite vivid. From picking out his ties as he got dressed for work, to our Carvel runs every other Sunday; our holiday shopping sprees and all the times he carried me out of the car and into my bed when I fell asleep during the ride home. No memory is more precious than the other, they all count, and they all mean the world to me.

       So to all the dads out there, and to all those with a dad, and/or a father figure, I beg you to make memories. Days will come and they will go. Things around you will certainly change, and many things can be lost or taken away. Your memories however, will be with you for a lifetime.

      Happy Father's Day to all of the "Dads" who continue to help make unforgettably precious memories.


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