Father's Day - it means a lot to some Dads, not much to other Dads, and nothing at all to still others. I love my Dad. We aren't exceptionally close in the way of being in constant contact, but I know in my heart he'd do anything for me, and he knows I'd do anything for him. I envy the girls who had an especially wonderful relationship with their fathers, because mine is lacking in the BIG memory moments. He worked at night and missed a lot during those growing up years, so many of my formative years were mainly of him coming home to sleep. But he worked those hours to keep a roof over our heads, food in the fridge and provide the other things we needed. Now that I'm an adult I can see how special that is and acknowledge how much that shows the depths of his love for us.
My best memory though, hands down, was of piano practice after school. You can imagine how it was - hours of practice, hearing the same song and the same notes again and again. I got nervous in front of other people - still do even as an adult - but not in front of my Dad. He was never judgemental of mistakes, hesitations or forgotten notes. He would just sit silently in his chair, put his head back, close his eyes and listen with this peaceful expression on his face, quietly tapping one finger in time with the music and sometimes even humming along. Once in awhile he'd quietly tell me to repeat a section again, then sit there listening to it - sometimes more than just a few times. I miss those quiet days of piano practice with my dad. His acceptance and his pride in my playing always kept me going. When I feel like something is just too difficult to master and I want to give up I can hear him quietly telling me to try it again.
Happy Father's Day Daddy. I'm so proud to call you Dad.
KR
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