Daddy and his girls. (It looks like I might have needed to go to the bathroom when this picture was being taken!)Most of us don't really KNOW our parents until we become adults. When I was a child, my Daddy was my hero. I knew he could never do any wrong. I knew he could fix whatever needed fixing. I knew he was a gentle, loving Father.
One time, my mother, my sister, and I brought home yet another stray dog. Our 17 year old dog had died about six months earlier, and we three females in the house had been in mourning since she died. When we brought the stray home, Daddy said "that dog is not staying. We don't need another dog. I've listened to the three of you cry for months. We aren't going to go through that again!"
Later that day, my sister and I were outside brushing the dog's hair, and I'm sure we had our most pitiful looks on our faces. (We were both very good at pitiful looks.) Daddy came out and said, "Maybe she can be an outside dog, but we're not bringing another dog into this house." My heart almost jumped out of my chest with excitement. That evening, my mother, my sister, and I left to run an errand. When we got home, the stray dog and Daddy were both asleep in his recliner! I never loved my Daddy more than I did at that moment. Seeing that little dog, asleep on his chest while Daddy snored away is an image that I'll never forget. Of course, the dog lived her remaining 15 years inside our house!
Daddy died when I was 17 years old, so he will always be my hero, and my memories of him will always be clouded by the emotions and love and the idolization of a child who adores her father. Daddy, I feel very sure that if I had been able to know you after I became an adult, you would still be my hero.
Thanks for coming by and for putting up with another personal post from me. laurie