Father's Day, Part 1

I am dedicating 2 separate posts, one to my Dad, and one to Tyler, in honor of Father's Day this year.  Here is my Dad's.

I find for me it is really hard to sit face to face with someone and be able to tell them exactly what I feel.  For one, I am too emotional, and generally break down into tears.  Secondly, I have a wandering mind and rarely say exactly what it is that I meant to.  Although I will never be able to put into words exactly how special my Dad is to me, I want to try.

Dad,

Things change from the time you are a little girl to the time you are an adult.  I have gone from seeing you at home every day to seeing you about once a week on Sundays.  We don't get to sit at the dinner table and talk about our day every night with the rest of the family.  We don't sit at that same table as you help me with my homework and sign my tests to be returned.  You don't come to my school to give presentations and let us use the always highly anticipated "bug board" anymore.  You don't ask the flight attendants for extra peanuts and pretzels to bring home to me anymore, or search for the perfect toy as a present upon your return home from business trips.  You don't ground me for not cleaning my room anymore, all while letting me know how much you love me regardless.  We don't go to Charlottetown Abbies games and get snow cones and hope to win the giant Subway sub anymore.  You don't take me into your work and let me look at things underneath the microscope and let me make little figurines using sharpies and paper cups. You don't drive me to hockey practice and tournaments at godforsaken hours of the morning, and sit in Dairy Queen with me and explain exactly what an offside is.    You don't coach my one prolific season in soccer, even though you had probably never even seen a game.  You don't lay in bed with me as I fall asleep and give into reading one more story.

There are a lot of things that we don't do anymore due to the passage of time.  Our relationship has evolved and changed.  We sit at a (new) kitchen table and laugh and joke over dinner, including a dish that you would have made especially for me. You helped me get through university and counselled me on the importance of finishing off a degree that I had no desire to do anything with.  Your words "there is no such thing as half a degree" stuck with me as I finished out round 1 at the University of Lethbridge.  I now go to your work to bring your granddaughter in so that you can show her off.  You tell me now about the struggles that come with travelling all of the time, and how it wears you down sometimes. We discuss the merits of different hockey teams, and you still defend your Leafs to the bitter end.  By the way, I often tell people your story about how when you were little you would vow to not at any popcorn until the Leafs had scored.  You are good natured as we tease you about things like your little quirks (like your spice, bulk barn, and dollar store obsessions).  Thanks to all those late night stories, I inherited a love of reading that I am passing along to my own daughter. 

You are more than a father, you are a role model, friend and confidant.  You have a special gift for making me feel special, even though you have 4 kids.  I love that you are passionate about things like cooking and gardening.  I love how your play list is so eclectic, with everything from french songs, to James Taylor, to Katy Perry and Pink.  I am incredibly fortunate to have such a strong male role model in my life, and I appreciate everything that you have done for me and given to me.  I love you.