There's a reason Daddies are chosen to be daddies of girls.
I think they're the sweetest Dads. It takes a special guy to put up with all the tears and whining and emotions galore, clothes shopping, changing hairdos, pink, sparkle, glitter, money-spending, hormone fluctuations, talking talking talking. And to receive all the sweet little girl hugs and kisses, fluttering flirty eyelashes, giggles and tickles and tears.
My Daddy was the best. He was gentle and quiet, didn't like to spank even when we really really needed one. He was so soft-spoken. He was slow to laugh and very slow to anger. He was slow period. Just what girls need.
He was my rock. He wasn't wishy washy. But we could talk him into stuff. When mom was out of town. He was always there, always calm, always sweet. He put up with so much but didn't flinch. Rarely saw his temper. I wonder how many checks I bounced when in college. And how many times I moved and he had to move me. And how many courses I dropped after he'd paid tuition. I don't know how he ever paid the Foley's bill balance down to zero.
These days he's not quite himself. Still quiet and still slow. Still loving when he remembers who I am. Still adores mom, maybe even more now because she's his rock. She's his connection to life, to reality, to memories, to home.
Thankfully Alzheimer's hasn't changed his personality. For that I'm so grateful.
Happy Father's Day, Daddy. You won't remember that I called, but I will anyway. You might not be able to talk on the phone, but we'll try.
I still look up to my Daddy. Girls should always be able to and he's never given me any reason not to. I realize not all girls get a Daddy like mine. I'm so very thankful for every year and every day I have him.
