As a child, my knees were always skinned from falling/sliding/wrestling and the rest of me proudly displayed war wounds from tree climbing/dirt bike racing/skateboarding/every other activity I thought I should master. He wiped the tears, wrapped the sprained ankles and prayed silently that I wouldn't break any bones before mom got home. He watched every soccer game I ever played in from the pigtailed age of 5 until the teenage angst-ridden age of 18 and never failed to complete fatherly duties of helping me peel off my sweaty, mud-soaked shinguards, socks and cleats after every practice or game. It wasn't completely necessary, but it was comforting knowing that I could sit there sippin' on a well-deserved smoothie while dear old dad did all the dirty work. I'm sure I asked for help when I was still rockin' the pigtails, but some father-daughter rituals just stuck.
He is also the reason I write. I will edit this Blog post 20 times before I will be able to sleep, thanks to dad's lessons in grammar and voice. My dad is a published author and even though I frequently rolled my eyes and secretly cursed him under my breath, he would never approve a paper I had written unless it was correct. Did it make sense? Were all the tenses correct? Was the grammar intelligent and appropriate? Most of the time I was just throwing a last minute paper together for class before 90210 came on, but to dad, each paper was a creation of greatness. His passion for writing wasn't exactly contagious back then, but it slowly became one of those father-daughter rituals that just stuck.
So, while I celebrate Father's Day pretty frequently these days given my Dad's challenging health issues, the official Father's Day is fast approaching. Each conversation we have now reminds me of how lucky I am to still have him. I'm not yet ready to let go of the one person in my life who helped me build go-carts and skate board ramps knowing that I was going to eat it and that he was going to be there to help me pick up the pieces.
Happy Father's Day to the King of Bandaids...
and thank you for helping me pick up the pieces.
