My daddy gave me the gift of life; and I was fortunate to have him in my life for nearly 60 years. But after that initial gift, he kept on giving.
He gave me the gift of a happy and secure childhood. I never had to worry about having enough food to eat, or having clothes to wear, or having a roof over my head. Daddy took care of all of that.
Daddy taught me the joys of reading and writing. He read Shakespeare to me. He made up bedtime stories about a family of frogs - funny how that frog family was so similar to our family! When I went on a train trip with my grandparents, daddy typed up a continuation of the story for each night I would be away.
Daddy had great expectations for me. He expected me to do well in school and he expected me to go to college. And so I did. There were some bumps along the way. Daddy bailed me out a few times when I "forgot" about an assignment till the last minute and began to panic. In third grade, it was my report on Norway and Switzerland (which I still have, by the way); and in high school, it was my book report on "Doctor Zhivago." He didn't do the work for me, but he supervised and made suggestions and helped me get it done.
Daddy looked out for my physical safety. When I rode my bike down the hill after the chain came off, he tackled me AND the bike when I yelled for help. When I wiped out on my skateboard in front of the house, he scraped me up off the road and took care of my skinned knees and elbows.
He taught me how to swim and how to drive a car with a stick shift. He paid for my piano lessons and my dance lessons, and my college education. I grew up thinking that I could do and be whatever I wanted.
Even after I became an adult, Daddy was always there for me. He and Mom helped decorate my various apartments and my house. Daddy made all the flower arrangements and bouquets for my wedding. When my daughter was born, Daddy was there at the hospital and got to see her first bath. During her first two weeks at home, Daddy, Mom and my grandmother came over every day to cook, clean, and work in the yard.
Daddy loved both my children and was so proud of them. He gave them french fry money and money for their educations. He shared his garden with them and babysat them. He got to see them graduate from college and grow to young adulthood.
When my husband was sick and later died, Daddy was there with his love and support.
Of course, Daddy wasn't perfect. We had our disagreements. I was keenly aware of the times I disappointed him - he wasn't shy about letting me know. And, oh, how I hated to disappoint him! He made me mad sometimes, he frustrated me other times. We didn't agree on child rearing or housekeeping. Though, in retrospect, I think he was right about potty training!
Daddy gave me his unconditional love, in spite of our differences and disagreements. I always knew that he loved me and was proud of me.
Daddy gave me a sense of humor. He taught me not to take myself too seriously. He taught me the importance of family. He taught me not to take things for granted; and that everyday life is just as important as the big moments and celebrations. He imparted to me a desire to keep learning and doing new things.
I was priveleged to have the opportunity to spend a lot of time with Daddy over the past three years while he was struggling with some health issues. He gave me the gift of patience - though he, himself, was not particularly patient. I learned about priorities in life and how to put things in perspective. He taught me that I am stronger than I knew.
I will miss being able to talk to Daddy and share jokes with him. I will miss sharing his garden with him. Father's Day and Christmas will no longer be the same - especially Christmas Eve, which was his birthday. We will have to adjust some of our traditions. But part of our new traditions will be talking about Daddy, telling our favorite stories about him, and remembering things he did and said. We will see him in his garden, in the Christmas decorations he made, and in ourselves. He will always be with us.
