It's Father's Day
My father, affectionately called “Daddy” as we do in the South was a wonderful man.
He’d come home from work and I as his little girl would say, “Daddy, Daddy, flip me!
I walk my legs up his long legs, the legs of a 6’2” man and he would hold my little hands and flip me over down to the floor.
In the summer, we went out in the side yard and he would toss a whiffle ball to me that I would hit with a bat he had cut down for me. He’d call me “Mickey Mantel,” the greatest baseball player of the time. On other nights we’d go to the Minature golf course, again with a putter he had cut down to my size. When I’d get an ocassional hole in one there was great celebration.
He was 6’2” and I was about 4’, under 80 lbs. I’ll never forget that he spent time playing with me and took me places. On Saturday’s he’d take me to the Hardware store to buy whatever he needed, I with my platinum blonde pony tail and tiny figure.
Of course he measured me on a doorjam about once a month to see if I’d grown any. Eventually I ended up being 5’2”.
I’ll never forget before he passed away he told me about the night I was born. He would put a block in the back door to the ob ward and go to meet his friends to celebrate his new daughter, and then come back every hour to check on me. My mother had had a cesarian and was slowly recuiperating from the surgery.
The night he passed away in his bed in our beautiful home, I laid down with him, holding his hand. I told him I had to go lay down on my pillow for a few minutes and I’d be right back. When I awoke sometime later, Dean was awake beside me and told me gently, “Your Daddy is gone”. I cried so upset that I wasn’t there holding his hand.
The last thing I said to him was “I love you Daddy”. He replied I love you too honey.
He was a beautiful, incredible man who love me and my husband with all his heart.
I love you Daddy and miss you.
Deborah