Dear Daddy,
With Father’s Day right around the corner, I’ve tried coming up with ideas on what to get you, what gift you would like to receive, what I can do to make your day special. But, being that you’re a man with the desire for very few luxuries unless it involves loading bullets or getting a new rifle, this specific task is never an easy one to accomplish. Even though having me as your daughter is a present enough, wink wink, I think I’ve finally come up with the perfect gift for you this year.
I think you and I can both admit we have not always shared the average father-daughter relationship. While you were off working in Texas during my high school years, there were times when I found myself bitter towards you, mad that you were missing out on my senior year, not seeing me off to any of my Homecomings and being at any award ceremonies. I grew to appreciate the times that you were in town on random weekends, when you were able to make my track meets, when you got to see me before my senior prom, and even when you woke up at 5 a.m. to drive in to watch me speak at senior chapel. But, by the time the job in Texas was over and you were home for good, I was off to college—something you thought I would be staying home for.
When we loaded up my car and moved me into the dorm, I think a part of you felt that same bitterness. Instead of walking into my room saying, “Rise and shine, beautiful,” like you did when I was younger, you had to resort to just texting or calling me, telling me to have a good day. When you finished your dinner, there was nobody’s half-eaten plate for you to finish. And when you needed somebody to go to the shooting range with, you had to settle for going by yourself (which is okay, because it gave you some practice, so you could try to shoot better than me the next time I came to town).
With this cursed timing, I can look back now and realize how crucial it was to us becoming as close as we are now. Random phone calls to each other during the week are no longer just to ask for money or to tell you I’ve messed up my car again. Trips home are made much more frequent than just on holidays, and I’ve lost count of the number of trips you’ve taken to take me to lunch or dinner "just because." You have become one of my best friends and one of the men in my life (along with Grampy) that I can always count on and will always keep close to my heart.
Being your only baby-girl, the list goes on and on of the things that I can never thank you enough for. There is first and foremost a thank you due for all of the support you have given me. For being excited about everything that I get involved in, because you know how much I love to pour my heart into things that I am passionate about. For giving me a love for hunting and more importantly, a love for Boudin, chargrilled oysters, deer sausage and boiled crawfish. For always letting me chose where we go for family dinner or being willing to BBQ steaks every time I come home. Definitely for always spoiling me, like when I begged you to buy me the Barbie Volkswagen Beetle, and then years later you surprised me with my very own life-size red Volkswagen Beetle.
Which brings me to my next thank you. Probably without being aware of it, you have taught me many life lessons. However, there are two in particular that will forever stick with me:
The first was when I was on the search for a car. I showed you hundreds of listings of cars for sale, new and old, did my research, everything. One night when I let my anger show because I still didn’t have a car, you finally looked at me and said “Katelyn, anything worth having is worth waiting for.” Not only were you teaching me patience and trust, you were teaching me not to settle. You ended up finding me the perfect little Bug, one that I had never found an ad for and was practically brand-new. It was the best surprise, and something I’m so happy that I waited for instead of rushing to get any good deal we could find.
The second occurred when I was in eighth grade, and I tried out for the dance team. You came home that night, and while you were fixing dinner, you asked me how my day was. I told you that I had tried out, but didn’t make the team. I was expecting you to sympathize with me, but in your nonchalant way, you looked up and said, “Well, Sweet Pea, it’s just the dance team. It’s not the end of the world. Just wasn’t meant to be.” Now if only I count the amount of times I’ve reminded myself of this. When I thought my world had ended, that I would be deemed “loser” for not making the cut, you taught me that life will have disappointments, but it always goes on. No matter how much it feels like my world is crashing down, it won’t be that way for long.
Most of all, thank you for treating me like Cinderella, and for being there to act as Prince Charming until “the one” (finally) makes his appearance in my fairy tale.
I hope you know that no matter where my crazy life takes me, whether I stay just an hour down the road from home or if I end up halfway across the country, I’ll always be your Sweet Pea.
Love always,
Your Baby Girl
