Dear Daddy,
First off I want to say thank you;
Thank you for teaching me how to carry myself from the minute I could walk.
Thank you for giving me endless life advice (that I actually take, even though sometimes it doesn't make sense).
Thank you for always pushing me to do my best.
Thank you for picking me up and dusting me off when I fall down.
Thank you for making me a strong, independent woman.
Thank you for keeping a smile on my face.
Thank you for making me tough.
Thank you for teaching me how to drive (even though I hit a turkey with my car three weeks after buying it).
Thank you for my enormous calf muscles (that can't fit into knee-high boots unless they're wide calf).
Thank you for telling me the funniest stories.
Thank you for sitting through 16 years of dance recitals, and even dancing with me all three nights for my senior solo.
Thank you for being truthful, even when the truth isn't what I wanted to hear.
Thank you for giving me a love of any shape, breed, or form, of dog.
Thank you for being my first and forever best friend.
Growing up, you were (and still are), one of my biggest supporters in everything I do. From coaching me in tee-ball (including putting up with me when I showed up in a tutu for practice), to attending every single one of my dance recitals, you were the first man to give me flowers and show me how I should be treated. You're there for me when I desperately need a shoulder to cry on or great life advice. It could be minus ten degrees outside, but I know exactly where to find you: in the garage, either listening to the radio, or cooking something on the grill. That garage, filled with an old four wheeler, numerous nuts and bolts, the grill, and Oreo's cat hair; is where I find comfort when I'm stressed. You never fail to put a smile on my face, even after I've been crying my eyes out for an hour before that. Nobody can ever give advice like you do, and sometimes you don't even give me advice. You tell me to dry my eyes and keep on moving forward.
Leaving home for the first time to come live here at Longwood was very difficult. It felt weird and still does, to not have you snoring like a chainsaw in the next room, or telling Harry dog to shut up and go to sleep when he starts braking or chewing on your blankets. It feels weird to not walk outside around four o'clock in the afternoon to have you standing in the garage, sipping on a beer, after just getting home from work. You're on speed dial whenever something seems to go horrendously wrong, or I feel too overwhelmed at school. You are always the first person I call when another light pops up on the Fiat's dashboard.
"Daddy, my check engine light's on. Can I still drive it?"
"Is it making a weird noise?"
"No."
"Go on down the road, if you break down call me."
That's typically how the conversation goes, I haven't broken down yet (let's hope I never do), and I always make it home safely for you to check it out.
Daddy, you are such a strong person, I think I've only ever seen you cry five times my whole life. You are where I get my toughness and strength from. I told myself from a young age if you broke down, I'd be the one to be strong enough for both of us. You have kept me grounded, safe, and above all, loved. No matter where life takes me, who I marry, or how far away I am. I will always be your little girl.
Thank you for everything.
I love you
Love,
Your Little Girl