His arms were the safest place when I was a child. They were comforting like a blanket, yet like a steel trap that no one could break through.
His voice usually meant things were okay, unless they were not. Then it was more stern, but still his.
His sideburns brushed against my face when I would give him a peck on the cheek, after his return from work each day.
Mom would get so mad when he would come to wash his greasy, oily hands in her kitchen sink, after working on a car or truck.
His garage was his place of respite, always working on something on the weekends or in the evenings.
He could do anything in my eyes – build, repair, invent.
Seeing his face in the audience always filled me with pride.
His words of love and encouragement, like emotional cash. He is still good at making deposits.
He always told me I could be whatever I wanted.
Many summer nights after we ate dinner together as a family, he would take me to the neighborhood pool and throw me into the water or simply swim along side me.
I remember waiting for him to get home so that I could ask him if we could go and being so very happy when he said “yes”. Those are some of my best childhood memories with him.
Safely home, he prayed every night before he went to sleep, kneeling at the edge of the bed he shared with mom.
This man I call “Dad” is a shining example of what a father should be, especially to a daughter. To this day he has never given up on me or thought less of me for any reason.
He’s always been a supporter, a motivator and just a good, good man.
He took care of me, my brothers and my mother in all ways.
Thank you, Daddy. I am so very blessed to call you my earthly Father. I love you.
Dad with the boys in 2009
P.S. I have an essay on TODAY Parents about another great dad I know. Give it a read!