He's MY Daddy.

“It is a wise father that knows his own child.” 

Cowboy boots, Daddy and a stylin' lamp.

~ William Shakespeare

I am a daddy's girl.

That's not an apology or even an explanation. It's a fact.

To some that doesn't make sense, because my parents divorced when I was 6, and my daddy never lived in the same town as I did after the divorce. Visits weren't as regular as divorced families have scheduled today. Mainly that was due to distance, and the majority of our time was spent with him during summers and holiday-ish times. My friends never saw us together until I was much older. So the connection wasn't very public.

To others, it makes all the sense in the world because they know him from my adult life. They know I relate to my daddy in ways that can only be explained through the genes we share. He gets me. And I think I get him.


I'm sure my sisters are rolling their eyes about now because I didn't live with him fulltime. I missed out on the discipline and the crankiness that comes with living with your parent in the same house day in/day out. But our connection goes so much deeper than that. His kind words have always made me the happiest. And any criticism from him can bring forth my tears faster than anyone else's. I was his firstborn child. The guinea pig of parenthood, I'm sure. And he was first playmate.

Don't judge. It was the 1970s...

My mother tells stories about me adoring my daddy as a child. I greeted him every day after work with a huge smile. He and I shared our food, had tea parties, laughed and played constantly. I wish I had those memories from those early years, but it's all so sketchy. The years have stripped all of that away, and I can only recall the stories I've heard so many times from others.

I called him "sweetheart". He taught me that my name was Charee spelled "B.R.A.T". The list goes on...
What I do recall was him playing his guitar and singing "The Little White Duck".  I thought he was the most amazing musician on earth. What I would give to have a recording of him playing that song for me when I was probably 4 or 5. In my mind, it makes Michael Buble sound like he sings out of key.

My stepmother always reminds me that my daddy talked about me nonstop during the early years of their marriage. I think he missed me as much as I am sure I missed him. We were two peas in a pod...and life got in the way.

And like so many others, we had to forge our relationship through the years in a less traditional sense. As a child, that was sometimes difficult and frustrating. But as an adult, I came to love him even more.  We found our groove, and I always know I can always bounce ideas off him at any time. (Or talk about the weather, right, Keren? haha)

Daddy is one of my heroes. And here are just a few reasons why:

• He will always "shoot me straight". 
• He still to this day will ride any roller coaster with me. Anywhere. Anytime.
• He is always supportive and helpful - even if what he says isn't what I want to hear. 
• He loves his family and he loves God. In fact, his faith in God has grown so much in the 42 (gulp) years that I've known him. I've loved watching that transformation. It reminds me that "going back to daddy" is also a spiritual part of life.
• He has learned from the pitfalls in his life, and he has made all the changes necessary to become the man God wants him to be. It's amazing and wonderful....everything I have always known and expected. 

I am so blessed to have such a great daddy. I am thankful that regardless of the distance we can't seem to shorten, we are still connected. I love  discovering things that we have in common, like our dislike of strawberries, and laughing at the same jokes with him. I love our bond. And I love that he's mine. (Ok...I know.. I have to share with the rest of the kids in the family. But still...)

Happy Father's Day, Daddy.
I love you.

Sincerely,
Your Favorite Firstborn