I know it’s the end of the day but today is a day when we honor our fathers.
I get it that there are people out there who don’t have fathers. Or the dad that they did get it pretty… well we don’t use words like that where my Gramma might read them.
There are people whose fathers have passed away. And fathers that have lost their children far too early. There are people whose fathers they never knew…
And some who have fathers or children that couldn’t be there due to other obligations.
Men that wanted dearly to be fathers but for one reason or another were unable to be.
Father’s day is a hard day for some…
For others… there’s that man in your life who stepped up to the plate and taught us how to be a man… or how a real man should treat us, be it a step-father, a friend of the family, a grandfather, a teacher, or in some cases even Mom wore the hat.
And then there’s the dads that were able to be around and that chose to be around, that loved their kids no matter what so that another man didn’t have to stand in their place.
I am so lucky… to have one of those dads.
My dad was/is ABLE to stick around and raise me. My dad CHOSE to stay.
My Dad didn’t kill me, though there were times I will acknowledge he had every right to do so.
There are times where I’ve wished I didn’t have him. This past spring I’ve had my issues with that… I’ve had my arguments and my scares where we’ve both thought that we would never speak the words “I love you.” to each other again… never speak again as we once did.
I graduate with my Bachelor’s Degree next spring. And in the course of stretching my wings and learning how to fly, there have been problems. Dad doesn’t want to let go, and while I want to go… I’m still a little afraid. I’m changing… learning who I am.
I am growing, not just under the guidance of my Dad, but of God… my father in heaven.
I’ve had so many role models of great men in my life. My Great Grandpa… the doctor, preacher, teacher, and Prayer Warrior… My Grandpa… Teacher and spoiler – always there at every band concert or opening night of a play, maybe he doesn’t read my writing but he’ll never tell me to give up or that I’ll never be good enough… driving 30 minutes just to kill a wasp for me.
My Dad… no matter what, always there, ready to protect me whatever it takes, patient enough to get me through even the worst of my anger and fear… even if at times it felt like it hurt more than it helped… Even if it’s just knowing when to leave me alone.
He’s a bit of a butt at times, but I love him anyway. No matter what, he’ll always be my dad…
He’ll always be my hero… even if at times it feels like he’s playing the villain.
Whenever I panic, whenever I’m scared I can always count on one simple reminder from him…
“Moira, don’t you remember how I raised you? What doesn’t kill you had better run because if you don’t kill it… I will.”
That statement is my dad in a nutshell… Kind of a wackjob, but he’s mine… and I wouldn’t trade him for the world.
I love you dad…