I’ve seen the video countless times, even once at my 15th birthday party, man did that embarrass me! I got to see myself being placed in my mom’s arms. I was holding on so tight that my mom had to use the mirror just to see my face. A few hours after that, my dad was playing peek-a-boo with me and I was just laughing my ass off. My mom has told me that it was that moment that she realized she was fucked…I was going to be a daddy’s girl.
My childhood consisted of a lot of sports watching with my dad, a lot of mall trips where we’d just wander around, and a “daddy daughter date” at least once a month. Some of my best memories started with my dad poking his head into my room “I’m leaving in 10 minutes if you want to come.” I’d wake up almost immediately and ask for 15 minutes; he always said he wouldn’t wait, but I would always get the extra five minutes. It didn’t matter to me what we were doing, I wanted to be there. We’d end up trying to make a garden or going to a movie or cleaning the trailer or watching youth football, it was always fun or me.
When we moved the summer before my freshman year of high school I really got into that teenage phase where I wasn’t a big fan of my parents. Luckily for my dad, it mostly applied to my mom (sorry about that mom). My dad and I would walk around the big city and stop by whatever restaurants or stores we saw; we’d struggle our way through the foreign country that was our home for 2 years.
We moved again the summer before my junior year of high school and I was finally getting out of that teenage phase. My dad and I would cook together or clean together; we’d take spontaneous trips to the beach or walk along the seawall together for an hour. We’d spend our Saturday morning’s walking down to the pancake house where we’d stuff our faces before taking the long way back home. I started attending the events that my dad’s school held and have a lot of fond memories. One in particular is of a pie-throwing event that was more of a kid-walks-up-and-shoves-the-pie-pan-in-your-face event where I tried to get away with pie-ing my dad. It ended up him chasing me around the courtyard trying to get the whipped cream all over me too.
During my senior year my mom spent a lot of time crying, thinking about both of her kids being out of the house. My dad and I spent more and more time drinking coffee or walking and talking about college: the applications, the financial aid, and the moving in.
Once I started college I would get a message every once in a while from my dad. He would go to school events and tell me how he missed having me there to help him. He would text me that he was at the pancake house and that he missed having a walking partner. He would go to concerts or sporting events by himself and text me about how he wished I was there “like the good old days”.
When I was beyond stress and crying about (literally) spilled paint, my dad was there on facetime telling me that he would take care of it, and me, when he got home in a month. When I found out I got an internship in Tacoma and would have to move up there by myself he made up a spreadsheet with addresses and amenities and distance from my work.
I can’t wait to turn 21 so we can go to Buffalo Wild Wings and drink beer and watch football, or go to the beer festival, or just go out and get burgers and beers.
My dad has always been there to support me and provide me with guidance. I’m lucky to have such an incredible relationship with my dad and I dread the day when I no longer have him around.