As I grow older, I realize more and more what having a dad like mine means. I grew up always loving and appreciating my parents, and was more than spoiled as a "daddy's girl," but I never understood what it meant to truly have someone like my father in my life.
Sure, he's frustrating. Sometimes he doesn't listen. Sometimes he really hates when I get dressed up to go out with my friends. Sometimes he forgets that I'm a grown person whose more than capable of making my own decisions. But more often than not, he's there.
And I don't necessarily mean that in a metaphorical sense; like saying that he's there for me when I need a shoulder to lean on, or he's there to call when I need someone to talk to.
What I mean is that he is physically present in my life, and nothing means more to me than that.
He came to every single one of my volleyball games back in middle school. He stood up in the stands and cheered with me. He clapped for me after every musical. He attended Girl Scout graduations and endured all the High School Musicals. He took me camping and fishing in the summer, and tucked me into bed every night.
He was there. He was always a part of my life.
It never occurred to me that not all fathers were there for their children, especially since almost all of my closest friends had great dads in their lives. They were dads I considered second and third fathers to me. Dads who were also at every school or Girl Scout event. Dads who never disappointed us. Dads we looked up to.
I see kids everyday who questioned why their dads walk out on them; why they never called; why they never came back.
I see kids whose dads have passed away, and will never see them grow up; never see what they will accomplish; never experience their children's lives alongside them.
I see kids with dads serving overseas; kids who wonder when, or if, their daddy will come home; kids who take in every precious moment as a bittersweet one; kids who suffer so we can be free.
And then I see my own dad: a man who, despite all his flaws, is someone I am proud to call my father. A man I will never be ashamed of. I see my own dad, and know that he's protective because he cares. He worries because he cares. He gives me the same life lessons a million-and-one times because he cares. I see my own dad, and I begin to understand how lucky I am.
He is here. He is healthy. He is happy. He is with me. He cares about me. He loves me.
Thank you, Daddy, for being my first hero and first love. Thank you for growing into a man I am proud to show off. Thank you for giving me high expectations for myself and my future. Thank you for loving me for who I am. Thank you for never giving up. And most of all, thank you for letting Mom whip you into shape.
You stepped up when we all needed you the most and became a father any little girl would be honored to have.
I will always love you for that.
