He is After All MY Dad

My dad and I have had our ups and downs. Luckily more ups than downs. There have been times where the down stretch was long. I still thought of my dad during those times. If I was creating something new for supper with just ingredients and no recipe, I would wonder, what would dad do? If something big happened, I would want to talk to him. Scary times in my life or when I was hurting, I needed him. But I was a stubborn shit and would not pick up the phone.

I am sensitive, my skin scratches easily. I love fiercely with all my heart. Everything you want to know about me is on my sleeve. I get all of that from my dad; I’m a lot like him.

My dad was a single father raising teenaged daughters by himself back in the day. He was the only dad I knew amongst my friends who was doing that in the eighties. He had no support group. How he did it, still marvels me to this day.

I don’t know who felt more awkward when I started my period at thirteen, him or me. My embarrassment of asking him to go to the store to buy my personals. How did he feel having to pick them out and then carry them up to the checkout lane. You know what? He always got it right. He never made a big deal about it.

When I was a teenager and we had a huge fight, I would go to my room and slam my bedroom door with all the dramatics I could muster. Pouting on my bed; licking my wounds, my eyes were fixed on my bedroom door waiting for him to open it. He always did. He would peak his head in and under the guise of an offer of a slice of cheddar cheese we would make our peace. It had been visible he had been just as upset.

My dad had to give me the talk. Albeit, it was short, to the point and ridiculously awkward. None the less, we got through it. I came away with the basics. Good girls wait until they are married. If he really loved me, he would wait. Don’t do it. Whatever I did, I better not get pregnant. That was pretty much it.

He came out west when my children were born. That meant more than anything to have him there. He brings a sense of calm in my world when times get overwhelming.

Nothing fills my heart more than when I watch him with my fifteen-year-old son. My dad is filled with the same joy and energy that he had when I was that age. He is a fun guy. My son adores him for that. I think my son needs him too.

My dad has always and will remain, my hero. I am everything because of him. Even if there have been times, I didn’t show it. I can’t get that time back; however, I will make sure I don’t waste the time we have left. Even at the young age of fifty-five, I still need him. He is one of the select few people I trust. In fact, he is at the top of the list. I know I may not always agree with him, but he tends to be fair and right. He is, after all, my dad.