I arrived as a later-in-life surprise to my parents. A surprise and a bit of a miracle. Allow me to explain…

Following the birth of their second child, my parents were advised by their physician to not have any more children since pregnancy and childbirth were so difficult for my mother. He also told them that it was highly unlikely that they would ever conceive again and to be thankful for their two healthy sons. My folks had hoped to have a larger family, but, given the multiple miscarriages they had endured in order to have two children, they decided that the doctor knew best.

Surprise!! Ten years later I came along… a strong, healthy baby girl. My father reportedly cried tears of joy each time he told someone the good news. I was daddy’s girl right from the start! The apple of his eye, his pride and joy. And as the years went by, we just grew closer and closer.

When I was little he called me his “best helper.” Holding tools, working in the garden, running errands… We read lots of books together and he always had a joke to tell or silly song to sing. As I got older we went to daddy/daughter dances at church. My daddy was the best ballroom dancer of all the dads! During the difficult teenage years, when I was moody and full of drama, he would come to my bedroom door each night, wish me “sweet dreams,” and blow me a kiss.

He came to all of my school concerts, award ceremonies, and church programs. He was my cheerleader, always smiling and encouraging me- even when I wound up attending three different colleges before finally graduating!

While planning my wedding, he said that he would walk me down the aisle, but he refused to give me away. “What if I want you back?” he would tease. Now I’m the one wishing I could have him back. Eleven years, eight months, and eighteen days without my dad…

-He always carried a handkerchief… always.

-He cooked the best fried eggs ever.

-He loved classical music and almost wore out his copies of The 1812 Overture and The Grand Canyon Suite.

-He only wrote in cursive to sign his name. Otherwise, it was small, neat, printed handwriting. (Oddly enough, my husband also does the same.)

-He could strike up a conversation with anyone, anywhere, about anything.

-He loved to read and was extremely interested in history. I attribute my love of books to him.

-He was a wonderful storyteller and became quite a poet in his later years.

-He was perhaps the most patriotic person I have ever known.

-He loved parades.

-He played the violin. And the piano… a little.

-He had a beautiful singing voice and performed at church and in the community on numerous occasions. We even performed together a few times.

-He could fall asleep anywhere!

-He loved my mother for more than 44 years.

-He was often melancholy, wondering if life had passed him by. I don’t think he ever realized the true measure of his success.

I miss him.