Twenty two years ago, my life changed dramatically. An early morning phone call from the hospital charge nurse on an otherwise lovely April morning brought the words, “your father passed away a few moments ago”. I remember telling her, “he’s not my father, he’s my daddy”.
There is a difference between the two. A father might impart wisdom, but my daddy stood alongside and showed me how to do things. A father may say he loves you so that others may hear, while my daddy showed me every day, in many ways, how much he loved me. A father may take pride in his accomplishments, but my daddy bragged on how smart all his kids were. A father might scold or scorn, while my daddy was known to let “the belt” do his talking, because he knew the value of discipline and wanted to raise his kids right.
Was he a perfect father? No, he was not. But he was the best daddy a girl could ask for! I miss him more it seems with each passing year. He’s sitting up there in heaven now, waiting for his kids to come home through the gates of glory! One day I will go to be with him. I will shout out, “Daddy, it’s me, Debra”! And he will turn and smile as I run towards him. What a glorious day that will be. For there I will be with my Father and my daddy, and we will spend eternity together, and never have to say goodbye again.
So if you’re fortunate enough to still have your dad here with you, cherish him and spend as much time with him as you can. For we have a tendency to forget that while we are growing up, our parents are growing old.