my own memories

When I think of my dad, I think of all that he is. He's hardworking and honest. A cowboy with a myriad of talents. He's compassionate and loves babies of all kinds. He's funny and serious and when you have pissed him off, he'll let you know. He can be hard and unapproachable, but it is mostly a facade. He's intelligent and one hell of a poker player. He's everything that I look for in a man and thus far, no one has measured up. There is no one like him. Well, with a small exception, which is in no way accurate, only brought up in anger: When my mom gets mad at me, she'll tell me I am just like him, meaning it to be an insult, but I always take it as a compliment and thank her for it. She, for some reason, is not amused by that and oftentimes, quits talking to me.

Growing up, our dad seemed to me to be often a hard and unforgiving man. Looking back, I filter through memories and he was always gone or when he was home, he was too busy and too cranky to really spend much time with.

But now... The man is one of the closest people to me. He knows when I'm upset, he knows when I'm happy. Every morning he comes into the office, I give him time to settle in at his desk and when I go in, he's ready for our morning gossip sessions. It seems that I'm making up for lost time. I don't mean to sound like there are no memories of him that weren't special because there are many.

Him, lifting me up to show me a heart he carved into an aspen tree with 'Daddy's Little Girl' surrounding it and what must have been the date.

Him, holding me with one arm around my waist as we sped over the snow,riding a snowmobile and in pursuit of a coyote.

Asking him for money, at whatever outdoor function we might be at (mostly rodeos) and him, correcting me until I automatically said 'May I?' instead of 'Can I...?' and then, palming the coins and giving me his finger instead of money.

Standing next to him on the truck seat, crooning 'Let's all go to the Dairy Queen' in his ear and his love of Peanut Buster Parfaits.

Him, taking us to see the 'baby Jesus' at the Courthouse at Christmas because we couldn't leave town without see him!

Him, letting me drive to town, with Merce in the back seat, when I was fifteen.

Him, telling me on the way to church on the day I was to marry a man I shouldn't have "We can turn around and go home, right now, babe. If anyone has anything to say about it, I'll take care of it. You don't need to do this if you aren't sure."

Him, holding and comforting mom when his mother died, the only mother she ever really had, during the whole funeral.

Him, during the whole 4 day ordeal of Ty's birth and the look on his face when he held him, even before I did.

Him, letting the boy ride on his lap while they mow lawns.

Him, helping Ty on with the first pair of cowboy boots.

Him, GIVING the child his own cowboy hat, the first of many and so proud of the fact that the boy absolutely worships him.

I missed a lot of my dad, growing up. And now I get to experience the side of him that I always wanted when I was a child, through my own child.

And what I remember most, is that laugh. It wasn't and never has been a constant. But when it is present, all is right in my world. It's a contagious roar and merely thinking about it puts a smile on my face.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love you more than any words I write could show.