When I logged onto Facebook this morning, this was the first thing I saw…
This beautiful young woman’s name is Jessica Giddens. It had just been announced that she was voted homecoming queen at her high school. The man standing so proudly behind her is her father. He is a soldier in Afghanistan and he had flown home to escort her to the game.
The beauty of this moment brought tears to my eyes.
I love the look of sheer joy on her face…made all the more radiant by the presence of her father, I am sure. That moment would not have been so sweet without him standing there to share in it.
There is nothing like a father in a girl’s life.
My dad has been gone from this earth and my life for eleven years.
I still miss him everyday.
Last week, I was pulled over for not having a current inspection sticker on my car. (Turns out that the garage had done the inspection but had forgotten to add the new sticker. I was oblivious). While the officer wrote up the pink warning slip, my eyes filled with tears and I thought, “I wish my dad were here.”
The thought seemed to come out of nowhere and I felt a bit foolish, longing for my dad’s presence when I am 48 years old.
On the other hand, does any man protect you like your dad? (I am extremely blessed to have a husband who does. Yet, when my dad was still alive and he and my mom came to visit, he would always pull me aside and ask, “Is there anything you need me to do around the house? I’ll take care of it.” 🙂 ).
Yesterday, was my “baby” brother’s 44th birthday. He came over for a grilled steak dinner, complete with cheesecake topped with strawberries for dessert. (None of that was made my me…mercifully. I wanted him to enjoy his birthday dinner).
As I watched him interact with my kids and my husband and talk on the phone with our mom, I realized something: He has adopted much of my dad’s mannerisms. The way he stands with his hands in his pockets. His hearty laugh. The way he strolls around the house while talking on the phone and holds the door open for a lady.
I love my brother for himself but I also love that in many small ways, he gives my dad back to me.
If you are blessed to still have your dad with you, call him. Visit him. Let him know what he means to you. Life goes by fast and you only have one father. No, he is not perfect. But then again, neither are you.
“Because death is the only thing that could have ever kept him from you.” —Ally Carter
One response to “The Importance Of A Father…”
I just adore my brother!!