Its Father’s Day Eve. My husband has headed off to bed, but I am sitting here on this warm summer evening. Still awake. Still thinking.
Sort of ruminating on the theme of “Father’s Day.”
I remember making little gifts for my own Dad. The first man I ever loved. The man with the smiling brown eyes and the Saturday morning pancakes and the pencil over his ear. My Dad.
Who could ever match his perfect Dadness?
My husband, that’s who. The man who so tenderly cradled our children in his arms. The guy who had to ask me how to pull a little girl’s tights up her legs. The person who thought that “Hamburger Helper” was a good enough dinner when Mom was out for the evening.
My husband. My partner. Dad to our three kids. He sends sports texts to Tim, hiking info to Matt, liberal political memes to Kate.
The man who jumped up from a deep sleep, keys already in hand, when he heard our daughter say to her husband in the tent beside his, “Honey, my water just broke.”
This guy. This gentle soul. This Grampa. He’s has matched my Dad’s core of Dadness.
So great! Who could possibly match that?
The other morning, pretty early, I woke up and had my coffee. I drove to my daughter’s house to pick up the baby for the day. My son-in-law came out with the day’s supply of bottles and the baby in her carseat.
We sort of grunted a vague good morning at each other, and he popped the carseat into my back seat. I was ready to head home for more coffee and some breakfast, and I barely made time to chat. I stood by the open driver’s side door, ready to hop in and get home.
What was taking so long?
I looked through the back window. I couldn’t see my son-in-law, but I could see the baby. I saw his hand reach in and gently, softly stroke across her cheek. I saw her gazing up at him with her huge brown eyes. I heard his voice, murmuring something softly. Again, his big hand reached in and caressed her hair, her cheek.
Then he stood up, said, “See you later” to me, and headed back into the house.
I got in the car, and I drove my granddaughter to my house. On the way, I said to her, “You are such a lucky girl! Your Daddy loves you so much!”
Happy Father’s Day to all of you wonderful, patient, loving Dads. We are so lucky to have you!
9 thoughts on “Dads”
Hamburger Helper!? My husband gave them cereal, and they loved it!
I didn’t mention the “Dinty Moore Beef Stew”. Yucko!
“Hamburger Helper!? My husband gave them cereal, and they loved it!”
I should have said they had the gall to like it! 🙂 Dinty Moore Beef Stew?!!
I know, right? My poor husband, though. Before he met my Italian family, the only ravioli he had ever had came from (shudder) a can……
Your dad and mine, enjoying the Sox’s impressive season so far from their seats in Heaven.
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And mine is watching those Cubbies with his brothers, too!
Just beautiful, Happy Father’s Day to all of us missing our Dads.
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So beautiful! Not surprised at all that Paul is such an amazing father and grandfather. So happy Kate found a great husband and father with whom to share her life and build a family.
Thanks, Tracy! Happy Father’s Day to Rick!