These days, there are three important men in my life.
One is my son who just turned two this year (I am still not sure how that happened).
The second is my husband – that should go without saying. He is my best friend (yes, I know it’s corny, and hopefully you didn’t just spit up your coffee) and a great father to my children. And I hope he knows that.
The third is my dad. And no, this isn’t a tax post but if you’ll indulge me for a moment, I just want to say a few things since it’s Father’s Day.
I am not altogether certain that my dad knew what to do with me – he always said that he wanted three boys and he got two and a half. There I was, a girly girl – I liked big hair and shiny shoes and poufy dresses. What was a dad to do?
Well, I’ll tell you…
It was my dad who drove me to Duke University when I was in junior high so that I could take the SATs and participate in one of their fancy programs. When I started getting college catalogs in the mail shortly thereafter, I knew who was responsible.
When my junior high civics class needed a chaperone, it was my dad who volunteered to drive the van to Washington, DC (although he did get us lost and he held my boyfriend over the toilet, but those are posts for another day).
When I decided at the age of 14 that I wanted to leave home to go to the NC School of Science and Mathematics, it was dad who packed up the car and made sure that I got there.
After I qualified for the high school Jeopardy try-outs, it was my dad who drove me down to Birmingham, Alabama so that I could give it a whirl. And he was the one who I cried to later when they chose some geeky boy over me, despite my scores.
It was my dad moved me into my dorm room at college and hunted down my Resident Advisor when one of my crazy roommates moved all of my furniture out into the hallway. This, he let them know, would not be allowed to happen.
As a junior in college, I decided to study for a year abroad in the UK. It was my dad who flew over with me to make sure that I got moved in okay and then played “dad” to two of my college peers who were attending the same college.
It was dad who drove up with me to find an apartment in Philadelphia for law school – even though time and money were short. And when the neighbors in the nearby transient “hotel” (hey, it wasn’t the greatest neighborhood) had a scuffle and threw their clothes onto the roof, dad understood that I still needed to stay (mom would have moved me out immediately).
And it was dad who helped me move into my new Philadelphia home following law school on what was a record-breaking hot day even though I am fairly certain that he wanted me to come back home to NC.
My dad has let me grow up in my own way over the years – and I know that it has been hard for him. He likes being the one that pulls the strings and I know that sitting back and letting go has not been easy. But he did it. And he did it while all the while letting me think that it was all me, me, me.
I probably haven’t said “thank you” nearly enough to him for standing behind me all of this time, so dad, here’s a great big thanks. I have learned a lot from you – and no, not just how to rub chalk on a grave marker or what poison ivy looks like – but about the importance of ethics and honor and working hard and character. I am so proud to be your daughter.
I am proud of my daughter too.
Dad