My Hero (A Letter to My Dad)

Originally Written Between 2013-2015    

I have the unique distinction of being the only girl ever to have practically every single one of her dates chaperoned by both her mother and father.  You see, my parents owned a roller rink and for seven or eight years, I skated almost every night while my parents “ran the rink.”  As I look back at that time in my life, I realize that I was never angry that my mom and dad were always around.  I was rather proud to say, “That’s my dad – the one standing by the door with his arms folded across his chest!”

When my dad turned 70 years old, our family put together an album of “letters” that relatives and friends sent to him.  I’d like to share a part of my letter to my dad:

“I’ve spent so many, many happy hours at the rink; and I am glad I was able to share my teen years with you and mom.  You are both very respected and loved by many people and I’m very proud to be your daughter.

So, what kind of memories do I have of you?  My childhood memories are surrounded with very secure feelings of being loved and trusted.  Just remembering the size of your hands made me think twice about doing any wrong.  I can still see you and Roald (Phyllis’ dad) walking down our long, long road to the forbidden railroad tracks where we were all playing – after being told to never play on the tracks!

On a lighter note, I was so proud to be ‘daddy’s helper.’  How I would follow you around – trying to walk in your footprints.  I’d like to tell you about one thing you never did though, dad.  You never told me that I was too dumb, or clumsy, or unable to succeed at whatever I tried.  I grew up with a sense of self worth.  You let me pound in the nails even though you knew they wouldn’t go in straight.  You never said, “I told you so’ whenever a romance had failed.  And you never criticized my friends, which gave me a chance to find out for myself what values and friendships I wanted to keep.

While I have many memories that I could mention, a few stand out in my mind:  My playing in the piano concerts and seeing you in the audience – our mutual love for Handel’s Messiah and how you gave me your record – getting up on your shoulders in the lake and you falling backwards as I yelled ‘timberrrr’ – the way we discussed my punishment for setting the TV on fire (that’s another story!) – letting all of us kids have a drink on Christmas Eve – seeing the mist in your eyes when you gave me away on my wedding day – and the proud grin when I presented you with your first grandchild – and your call to me after Rebecca was born and we were told she may not live will always be one of the conversations I’ll never forget.

You know I could go on and on, dad; but, I’d like to close with one memory that stands out:  I’ve told many people that I know I was your favorite!  Every time I mention it to Steve and Joanne, they say – What do you mean?  I was his favorite!’  Each of us truly believe it.  You have a special gift of making whomever you’re talking to feel very special.  I have always had your undivided attention.  You make me feel as if I’m the only important person in the room.  You are sincere in your compliments and very loving in your reproaches.  You’ve helped make my world one of life, love, and laughter.  As I used to say when I was a child (and still believe today) – I’ve got the biggest and best daddy in the whole, wide world.”

I wrote this in 1998.  My parents were in their eighties and stating that they were slowing down was an understatement.  Dad had recently been diagnosed with dementia and while he still had many good days, I knew there would be a time when he would not remember his favorite child.  But….. I do.