“Father’s” Day…

“Father’s” Day…,

  Since we started studying with the Brothers and Sisters from our local congregation of Jehovah Witness we have not celebrated any holidays. Father’s day is no different. Yet this year a comment that was said to me has me thinking. First and for most. We try not to call my husband “Father” anymore. 

Wait!, What!, I beat you are thinking.  Hear me out.  To us our Father is the one who is the creator of all things Jehovah (Mt 23:9), and Dad is the one who is the one who is the head of the family unit. We are human though and trust me, there are times when I am in a rush or aggravated, (like many mom’s out there lol) and tell the kids “go ask your father!.”. It is something I am working on.

Now back to what I was thinking about..,I have never known my biological Dad. I mean, I spent a week with him back when I was 19 and talked to him on the phone up until a few years ago here and there. But know him, no that never happened. The reasons behind that are different depending on who you talk to, yet honestly it doesn’t matter. What ever happened, happened. I haven’t spoken to my biological Dad since he gave me the ultimatum of choosing him or my mother to come to my wedding.  First that, was extremely childish and secondly hello, it was like 30 some odd years ago. Let it go. (I bet you are signing the song huh? Just for giggles here go watch the video, I’ll wait.  Let It Go ) Back? Good, I know, I love that song also. Any ways, due to scheduling conflicts and such my mother was not able to make it to my wedding. Which was ok. The people who where meant to be there where. The men who where suppose to be there where there.  

Saying our vows.

Saying our vows.

 There where three people I wish who could be there. My oldest son, which because he lived with my biological dad there was no chance in that, my grandmother and my daddy. The latter, who both passed away before seeing what their girls did with their lives. My daddy was really my kid sister’s biological dad (She’s the one who married my husband and I), yet he always treated me like his own. I went to baseball games and fishing with him. He introduced me to Guns N Roses. Knocking on Heaven Door still stops me in me tracts and brings be back to 1993 and dancing with my daddy in his kitchen.

Daddy

I’m the one up top, The Brat is to the left and our brother is to the right with Daddy in the middle

 I wish I had spent more time with my Dad before he passed. I spoke to him almost daily, as he called to check on how my sister and I was doing. However, as most young women in their early 20’s I was eager to get him off the phone and on with my life. It was no different the day he died. I spoke to him that morning. I spent a little more time talking with him discussing the bible among other things. I was the last one he talked to before he passed away from a heart attack. He was not even 45.

There are so many things that made this man great, I have many fond memories of his crazy antics that would always brighten my siblings and I days. One of my earliest is him washing oil base stain off my hands (which took hours it seems). He was SO mad because I wondered away from the yard and gotten into some paint at someone eles house, I was 5. I remember we sat there in silence while he scrub my tiny little hands clean. I also remember the tears that ran down his face. It was the one and only time I ever saw that man cry. I did not know it then, but after he died my mother told me why he cried. He had thought he lost me. That feeling that parents get when their child is out of their sight. The sear terror of the thought that something horrible happened to your baby. My mother had only been married for a short time. He had known me for even less, yet, in his mind and more importantly in his heart, I was his daughter. I was not his step daughter, or his wife’s daughter. I was HIS daughter. 

I know that my kid sister ( The Brat) is missing Daddy today. In 3 days he will have been gone for 12 years. I also know that my brothers are missing him also. He was a great person. A even better dad. Even though him and my mother was divorced, he chose to remain friends with her because she was the mother of his daughters. Did they always see eye to eye. No. However, the kids where never brought into it. To us kids he was our hero.  

Being a Dad is not about DNA, it is not even about whether or not they are dating your mother. Being a dad is giving your all to raise a child to the best of your ability. Making an impact, giving your time, giving your unconditional love, being the shoulder to cry on when life is, well, life.  Even though my biological dad has never really filled those roles, I have been blessed to have not only my Daddy, but many other men take up that slack, both then and now. It is to them, I “tip my hat to”. As for my Daddy, well I know I well see him again. <3

<3 Maggie

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