If you know dad, you know he has a tough outer layer, which can be difficult to pierce. Being his only daughter, though, I like to think that I have a special ability to break through his macho-man exterior and get to know his most vulnerable self.
Growing up, dad always told us kids ("us" being my brother, cousins, and I) that he was Superman. He was so believable at being Superman that my cousin, Shawna, actually went to school and told her class about her uncle's supernatural identity lol. He was strong and knew everything there was to know and made me feel safe from the scary things that loom in the darkness, as he tucked me into bed every night.
Dad gave me lots of reasons to brag about him, but I remember one time in particular that I went to school and told my friends I have "the best dad in the world". It was pet day at school, and I was bringing my Jackson Chameleon to show my class. On our way out the door, my dad noticed there were sugar ants all in my chameleon's cage. Instead of making me leave my prized pet at home, even though he had work and we were already running late, he took the cage outside and cleaned it all out so I could take it to school. This probably doesn't seem like a big deal to most people, but it was one of the many times I actually stopped to think about how lucky I was to have such a great dad and I will never forget that day. Though I've always loved my dad exactly the same, I didn't always take the time to truly appreciate him.
As a teenager, I didn't always get along with my dad. in fact, I pretty much fought with him constantly. I thought he was unemotional, insensitive towards my feelings, and most of all, I hated that he didn't spend as much time with me as he did my brother. I wanted to go on hunting outings, fishing trips, and learn how to golf! So how did I express my frustrations with him? I yelled and disrespected him and fought him over everything I could. As you can imagine, this didn't exactly make my dad want to be around me any more. This is how our relationship continued basically until I went to college, where I grew up some and started to grasp the fact that my dad isn't actually Superman; he's just a man, and I'm lucky enough to have a dad who tries to be Superman for my brother and I.
Looking back, I regret my teenage years with everything in me. I wish I understood then what I do now- that he didn't ever care about me any less, he just didn't really know how to relate to me or speak to me in my specific love language. I went from a little girl who went along with everything he said, to a confused teen who took it far too personally whenever he spent his time doing something else, rather than spending it with me. I now know that his love language is service. In his eyes, he was probably doing everything humanly possible to keep his daughter content; he worked and gave me spending money, he mowed the lawn, did house work, etc. and I just remained unsatisfied with his efforts.
Now, I am happy to say that we're far past that point in time. We now share an alma mater, which I like to think makes us closer and gives us something in common, he taught Michael and I how to swing dance for the first dance at our wedding, performed our ceremony, and spent the time and money to move us into our new apartment in Iowa. He's supportive in every way imaginable. Dad, I'm so lucky to have you! Happy Birthday, old man, I love you!!
No comments:
Post a Comment