My Dad


I've been sitting here thinking about things and in a roundabout way and the subject of my dad came up. See, I tend to have my dad on a pedestal, he can do no wrong in my eyes. My husband makes fun of me all the time about it. The little girl in me still can't get enough of him.

My teenage parent's shotgun wedding didn't last. As a matter of fact, the thought of my bio-parents... together... weird. I have only one memory of us together at Disneyland, and it's a vague one at that. (Hubs thinks this is the seed of my Disneyland obsession) Anyway being the daughter of teen parents wasn't easy, they made many mistakes and relied on family members to help take care of me until I was about 5 years old. I am grateful in my case that I wasn't given up for adoption, which was the trend back in the early '70s. They both did the best they could with their given situations. Trust me, not all 17 year old boys turn out to be such caring individuals.

My parents lived 5 hours away from each other and I lived full time with my mom, with the exception of holidays and summer break. But I received phone calls on a weekly basis and occasional drop-in visits when his job on the railroad brought him to town. He always made an effort. Never once have I questioned his love for me. I've always known I can tell him anything. And if I needed to cry, he never made me feel like my tears were unjustified. Sometimes we'd sit on the banks of the river and talk, about anything and everything.

As most kids do in long-distance families, I wanted to try and live full time with my dad. He was remarried and I had a baby sister. After a custody battle and some grueling bickering between step-parents the opportunity came. But it wasn't working out so well on my end (I won't get into details). But one of the more difficult things I've ever had to do was tell my dad after all the hoopla was "I just cannot live here anymore." He didn't put up a fight or make me feel like I was letting him down. Instead, he put his arms around me, told me he understood, and let me go back to my mom.

My dad knows he's not perfect. But on the day I held him as he poured out his heart and tears in my arms I knew he was my perfect father....


He's a pretty amazing Grandpa too....

Mary



Comments

Jessica B Photography said…
This is gorgeous, Mary. Thank you for posting this!
August 20, 2011 at 9:44 PM
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