My Father’s Daughter
Today marks 21 years since my father passed away. Every day before and every day since, his strength and his love have been a constant in my life. And my gratitude is without limits, for the certainty of the things I knew and know… for the love that will never end… for the gift of being my father’s daughter.
When I was growing up, there were many things I knew.
I knew that when I awoke from a bad dream and whispered ‘Daddy’, my father would immediately answer ‘What is it, duck?’
I knew that when I was home sick from school, my father would walk into the bedroom at the end of the day holding a six-pack of soft drinks that would help me feel better.
I knew that when we beachcombed every summer, he would help me collect rocks of all shapes and sizes, and build boats out of driftwood and seagull feathers.
I knew that when we went trouting, he would put the worm on my hook and take my fish off.
I knew he would carry me to safety when a Newfoundland bog sucked the boot off my foot, and pull me out of a snow bank when I got stuck.
I knew that at Christmas and on my birthday, my father would give me one special gift just from him.
I knew that on rainy summer days, he would make sure I had paper – long, legal-sized sheets – for my scribbles and my doodles.
I knew that he would cook me breakfast every morning, and cut my poached egg on toast into easy-to-eat squares.
I knew he would always kiss me goodnight, and he would never leave the house without kissing my mom and me good-bye.
I knew my father would always get me where I needed to go… no matter how stormy the weather, no matter how bad the roads, no matter how long the trip took.
I knew my father would always come home, would never let me down, would always be there when I needed him.
When I was growing up, I knew that my father could do anything that really mattered, go anywhere that really mattered.
And perhaps most important of all, I knew that he believed I could do the same.
Thank you, Dad. For your belief… your trust… your love. For everything. For always.