My Daddy, the best dad there ever was

My Dad was the best dad ever, in my humble opinion. He was the first boy who hugged me and told me I was special. Then he continued to hug me and tell me he loved me and still thought I was special as I got older, until the day he passed away.

Daddy was always interested in what I had to say or do. When I wanted to learn how to ski, he researched the ski and boots market and found me the best skis, poles, boots, ski jacket and pants that his little budget could afford. When my mother refused to go to the movies, he and I started "movie night" where the 2 of us would go to the movies together, eat candy bars and drink Coca-Cola (which m mother never allowed in the house) and then discuss the movies together on the way home. I still remember seeing "Zhivago" and "Lawrence of Arabia" with him. I was around 12 years old, but somehow he thought I was old enough to see adult movies.

He never let on to me that the world might impose any limitations on me, not because of being a female growing up in the 60's and 70's, nor because maybe I might not be able to hack it. He had great confidence in me, much more than I had myself, growing up. Whenever I think I might not be able to hack it, I try to remember my dad's faith in me, and how he thought his greatest accomplishments were the daughters that he raised.

My only regrets are that sometimes we all didn't live up to what he wanted for us all the time. And I regret that he didn't live to see my children grow up to be fabulous people on their own. He loved his grandchildren so much, and loved spending time with them. Once he told me that I was too hard on one of my kids. I replied that he would never have let me do what he was telling me that I should let slide. "Yeah, well. Maybe I was too hard on you kids", was his reply. He really wasn't.  Most of the time, his discipline was a harsh look and a comment that he was "disappointed" in me. All this makes me realize that what I do remember is how much he loved me, not how much he disciplined me.

Parents are never perfect, and kids, unfortunately, don't come with a simple How-to Manual. I'm sure he felt he made mistakes, and I'm sure that I've made mistakes, too. But I remember him with great fondness, and much love.

And that's how I want my own children to remember me when I'm gone. I want them to remember me just like I remember my dad -- I want them to know how much I love them, just like how much I knew he loved me, just as I am.