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What makes a "Daddy"? Something all parents should read.Mar 09 '00 (Updated Mar 25 '00) Write an essay on this topic.On March 20th, 1994 I lost the most important man in my life, my daddy. I can not tell you how much I grieved, the heartache I felt each time I held his first grandson of 5 weeks knowing that he (and his future brothers) would never "know" my dad. The horrible grief I suffered was because of the love and respect I had for this person that brought me into the world and raised me to the best of his ability. When I was young, my mother stayed home with me and my father worked. He was a forty hour a week kinda guy, always home by 5:15pm. We were lucky in that his job did not demand a lot of overtime hours. I can remember the days he would come home exhausted from a hard day, he would always greet me with a smile. I never felt as though he took out his hard day on me. Many days I'd run out to his car to find him shuffling around with frustrations from his day, moaning about not getting this done, or not making that deadline. As soon as he would look up and see my face, his total expression changed. Not only did he MAKE my day, by just being "daddy", I made his. Do you know what that is like for a child? It's priceless. Sure, those Saturday's he'd go out in the mornings and bring me back a prize were nice, but the days that stick out most in my mind were the ones where I had missed him all day, ask my mother 678 times if it were 5 oclock yet, and sit by the sliding glass door waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for my daddy to come home. He retired from his job when I was fairly young (12 years old). By this point, my mother worked outside the home, so my father was the Stay At Home Dad. He was there to greet me everyday, pick me up from school when I was sick, take me to the orthodontist and then out to breakfast before returning me to school. We had our father/daughter ritual. Being a lot older than most dads (he was fifty when I was born), I used to get a lot of grief from classmates. "Is that your grandfather?" many would ask. When I was young, I used to cower, never to comment, but as I got older I proudly corrected them with, "Nope. That's my daddy." I grew to realize that most all of my friends had "fathers" but not many had "daddy's". The difference, you ask: A father is a sperm donator. A daddy is there and cries when you are born. OR He sheds tears of joy when he is told your adoption is final. (Just for you, Erik) A father comes home from work and barely speaks. A daddy wipes away his stresses for a smile and a hug. A father buys you a present for Christmas. A daddy stands in line for 7 1/2 hours to get the one thing you want most. A father takes you to the park out of obligation. A daddy takes the day off work to take you to lunch. A father tells you that the storm will soon be over. A daddy sits in the floor making shapes with his hands on the shadows of the wall, trying to distract you from your fears. A father sits at the end of table. A daddy reaches for your hand as he says grace. A father walks you down the isle. A daddy takes his time just to hold on to those final moments before he gives you away. When a father passes, you cry and think of things like "I wish." or "What if". When a daddy passes, you cry and think of things like "Remember when?" and "He'd be so proud, because..." Dad's take this time to look at your relationship with your children. There are SO many of you that work long hours, 2 jobs, etc. I know, I'm married to one. My boys are lucky because my husband is a wonderful "daddy". He's found that the key isn't the quantity of time you spend, it's the "QUALITY". Now ask yourself: Are you a father or a daddy?  |
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