Still Your Girl

One of my last dances with Dad

It was close to 2 am when the phone rang. Who knew that that oh-so-familiar sound had the power to change my life forever.
10 years ago today I became a fatherless daughter.

I am not sure when the realization occurred, but it must have happened when I was quite young. Possibly before I even started talking. Who knows, maybe it happened the moment my father laid eyes on me in the hospital 33 years ago. Either way, it is no secret I was a daddy's girl for as long as I can remember. I am not sure how a little girl knows she has a grown man wrapped around her finger but I will admit it - I knew. Over the years, the power that came along with this title was certainly taken advantage of too many times that I'd like to admit. There wasn't much I could do to hinder the twinkle my father carried for me in his eyes. But not only was this twinkle reflected in my own eyes, the light I carried for my father was almost blinding!!

The very first man I loved was most certainly the most charismatic man I have ever loved, even to this day. My dad was a bad boy, which secretly made me proud. I would often find myself bragging in the school yard about the his wild ways. Jay, Sam & I still love to talk about our bad ass dad. He was most certainly the life of the party, who I of course as a teenager, still managed to think was lame. Especially when he blasted his country music in the minivan on family outings. Or when he forced me to watch Julia Childs cooking shows with him on Saturday mornings. Or when he begged me to help take off his cowboy boots because he loved them snug. But even when I thought he was lame, I was always proud to call him my dad.

My father was the toughest man I have ever known. And his past would explain why. With an alcoholic father who was never there and eventually died at a young age, my grandmother was forced to raise her two kids on her own. She did the best she could. But with little options, my father was put into an all boys home at the young age of 12. I assume this was supposed to be a temporary solution, however my father remained there until he was 18 and old enough to live on his own. He grew up quick and he grew up strong. Some of the stories he shared with us about his time at the all boys school in the 60's explained where my father got his grit. My father never did finish high school but he never let that get in the way of his goals. Using his gift of the gab, he became a very successful salesman, traveling this country coast to coast. He continually raised the bar and always met it. My father had drive like no other and tried his hardest to pass this trait onto his kids. He pushed us academically almost to the point of exhaustion. I didn't understand it at the time but now I do. He wanted to spare us the blood, sweat and tears that he shed for so long.

There wasn't much my dad didn't know or couldn't fix. He always knew the right words to say and how to make me instantly feel better. That is why the phone call I received 1 decade ago felt more like my life was the one that ended, not his. How was I to go on? How could I possibly get through this difficult time without my dad?

Life has decided to throw several curve balls my way since his passing and somehow I have manged to pull through. The only explanation that I have for this is that I was privileged to have the best role model a girl could ask for. Whenever in a pickle, I ask myself what my father would say. Anyone who has had the privilege of knowing my father would know that he had A LOT to say;) But mostly he would tell me, 'you will get through this'.
He has yet to prove me wrong.

My father was always a man of his word. In every sense. His motto was 'I'm here for a good time, not a long time'. Dying from his fifth heart attack at the young age of 52 proved that. Although I admired his ability to always follow through, this was one time I wish he didn't. I was mad at him for years. Still am. Mad that he didn't cheer throughout my valedictorian speech like I know he would've. Mad that he wasn't there to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day. Mad that he will never meet his first grand son, Rowan. Mad that he'll never meet my kids. But mostly I'm mad that all I have for my husband and kids are stories.  Stories of the most influential man of my life. Stories I promise to keep sharing until the end of my days.

A decade has passed but I'm still your girl, Dad. xox