Happy (Late) Father's Day

I would not categorize myself as daddy's little girl (that position is already taken by my older sister), but all the same, I have very tender feelings for my dad (and it's ok that I'm not dad's favorite, because I come in #1 on mom's list).

The Paul is my antithesis. He is quiet, thoughtful, and patient. I can't recall ever seeing my dad angry (except at a cow), I have very rarely heard him speak badly of another person (if he did, they deserved it), and I have never seen him outworked by anyone - even those half his age.

My favorite memory of my dad was the time I ran the finger-wheel rake into a telephone pole. As an 8-year-old, I was terrified of what dad's reaction was going to be.

I remember running to the house, gathering up all of the money I had to my name (which was about $2.50 in change), thinking that perhaps I could pay him for the damage I had done. Then, I lost my nerve and instead, climbed down into a giant pile of tires and cried. Dad finally noticed that the raking had not been done and followed the whimpering to find me.

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I was so scared that he was going to yell but he didn't. In between my blubbering, I told him that I thought I would be able to fit the tractor and the rake in between the fence and the pole but had misjudged the width. Then, when I offered my little sandwich baggie full of money to compensate for my mistake, he refused and said that if I was willing to help him fix the rake, I could keep my money.

We took the wheel off and when there were a million other things he could have been doing, he sat there and removed the 20 tines from the wheel and painstakingly taught me to replace them. I'll never forget that.

Ten years later, when my little sister passed away, my dad, who has never been great at showing physical affection, let me sit on the bed with him, my head on his chest, and cry about how bad I hurt. He awkwardly patted my back and told me that he understood.

On my mission, even when he found he had cancer and had to have surgery, he didn't miss a single week's letter. Nothing was more precious to me than the letters from home.

I look forward to having kids of my own for one reason - even though they are completely different on the outside, I see a lot of my dad in my Nick. And, I hope against hope that we will eventually live close enough to my parents that my kids will have the opportunity to see what a prize their grandparents are.

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