Earlier this week I chatted with my students about an upcoming awards ceremony at school. They were excited, talking eagerly about what they’d wear and what food would be served afterward. I agreed with them that I too was excited and looking forward to it. One of my girls said, “I’m excited because my dad is coming, Ms. Dulion, are you excited because your dad is coming too?” I smiled and explained that no, my daddy wouldn’t be there but that I looked forward to meeting hers. What I didn’t tell her was this . . . If I needed him to be there, if I called and asked him to come, and probably, truth be told, if I casually mentioned that it was something important to me, he absolutely would be there – every single time, without question.
A girl never forgets the first man who makes her feel beautiful and loved and cherished and adored. That’s my Daddy – my very first love and my forever hero. He set a ridiculously high bar for anyone who dared follow him. His birthday is today. My eyes, they’re his – I see him there when I look in the mirror. My Cooper, I see so much of Daddy in him – from the way he folds his hands together to how big he feels things. And our eyes? Coop has them too.
I hope that we share more than just his eyes – Daddy is steadfast and loyal and kind and giving. He’s fiercely protective and cannot stand injustice. He’s often quiet, introspective, and he prefers time with “his people” to that spent in the bustle of a crowd. He’s happiest at home, the home that he built. He loves you well and delights in giving gifts (I don’t know that I’ve ever received a flower that made me happier than the “big girl” corsages my daddy used to get me on Easter Sunday). And there is just nothing better than seeing him get tickled about something and literally laughing until he can’t breathe. Watching him be a “Papa” to my children makes my heart sing – when I watch him, watching them so proud and absolutely full of love, it’s easy to imagine him watching me exactly that way so many years ago. And my Mama, gosh! does he love that woman.
I can distinctly remember being a teenager at Wiregrass Commons Mall and DYING in mortification when Daddy wanted me to hold his hand walking IN THE MALL. The horror! What if someone saw me?! How embarrassing. How completely uncool. . . I wish I could talk to that silly girl now. I’d tell her to hold onto that hand just as often and for as long as she possibly could. To soak in every bit of that love. To memorize how those stubby fingers felt holding mine – safe and strong and sure. I’d make sure she knew that she just had no idea what a gift she was given in that daddy of hers. Today is his birthday. He deserves to be celebrated today and every. single. day. I won’t make it home to see him today, but if I did, we’d walk around the mall, holding hands. Happy, happy birthday, Daddy; I’m so glad you’re mine.