To My Dad

 

I have so many fond and wonderful memories of time spent with my Dad that it is difficult to pinpoint one in particular to write about. Many of these memories are not particularly momentous but meant a lot to me in all their simplicity. One memory in particular that comes to mind is the afternoon during the spring of my 10th year that I spent helping my Dad clean the garage out in preparation for a yard sale. He had a radio set up in the garage and was blaring music from the local classic rock station. I began asking my Dad questions about the various songs being played and, being a trivia guru, he would tell me interesting tidbits about the lives of the songwriters or a little background about the inspiration for the song. While he may not recall our conversation, it was significant to me because it marked the beginning of a long love affair with the music of the Beatles, Billy Joel, Elton John, and (sadly) David Bowie. I would listen to my vinyl recordings of the songs of the 1960s over and over on my record player while my peers were blaring the latest hits from Ricky Martin, NSync, Britney Spears, and the Backstreet Boys. When my piano teacher, in an effort to select a couple modern pieces for me to play, asked what sort of music I enjoyed listening to, the first artist I listed off was "Herman's Hermits." He seemed a little dumbfounded by my response - apparently he did not have the sheet music to "Mrs. Brown You've Got a Lovely Daughter" readily on hand. 

What can I say? I am my father's daughter.

I have many similar memories of my father that helped shape my ideals, tastes, behavior, and desires. However, my favorite memory of all occurred on my wedding day just minutes before my Dad led me down the aisle to marry my Paul. We were standing in the foyer of the church waiting for our queue from the wedding coordinator to begin our march down the aisle. The rest of the wedding party had been ushered into a line and my Dad and I were alone for a few precious minutes. I remember he held the long, heavy train of my wedding gown and seemed a bit nervous. Now that I have my own children, I understand why - I was the first of his eleven to be married. Dad's thoughts must have paralleled those of George Banks, played by Steve Martin in the classic film Father of the Bride, as he led his daughter to the altar: "This was the moment I'd been dreading for the past six months. Well, actually for the past 22 years."

He gave me a hug and began telling me how incredibly proud he was of me and how happy and confident he and my mother were that I was making the right decision in choosing to marry Paul. It meant so much to me to hear those words, to know that I had his blessing and his love. As we began that long walk down the aisle to the altar where I would begin my vocational call as a wife and mother, my heart resolved to continue to make him proud.

Our photographer did capture a picture of this moment, though I do not need an image to remember it. It is a memory that is forever etched in my heart, one I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

I love you, Dad. Happy Father's Day!