I have very few memories of my dad when I was young. However, my earliest memory of him is still very vivid in my mind and I am reminded of it every Easter.
One spring day when I was about 4 years old, the Saturday before Easter I believe, my dad was allowed to pick me up to spend the day with him. I remember it was near Easter because I was all dressed up in my Easter clothes. The dress as I recall was a white fluffy polyester dress with 2 crinolines underneath along with the Easter hat, gloves and ruffled socks and brand new patent leather white shoes. I remember almost every beautiful special occasion outfit I ever got because I LOVED dressing up and I especially loved showing my dad my special outfits. This Easter outfit was no exception – I was totally decked out for my daddy to see. 
I remember reaching up to hold his very large hand and together we set off (2 doors down) to my grandmothers house to see the surprise he had for me.
In the yard – dad had an old metal horse-watering trough filled with water and 6 tiny yellow baby ducklings. I remember how excited I was. I had never seen anything like this before. They were so cute and so busy swimming around that little make shift pond. Dad turned over an old, but clean, wooden flower bucket – placed it up against the metal trough, covered it with his jacket, lifted me up and sat me down on the bucket so I could watch the ducklings swim and play with delight. I’m not sure who was more excited, me or the ducks. I recall periodically looking over at him as he worked on an old truck in the yard – his work truck I think. He’d give me a wink and I’d smile back. I was just happy to be near my dad. Somehow this made me feel very special and very happy to be able to spend this delightful day with my dad – just him, me and 6 tiny little carefree ducklings.
Every Easter now for about 10 years, I have had baby ducks at the studio for the kids to be photographed with. Each and every time I am transported back to a wonderful memory. One that to this day still brings a smile to my face. Memories like these are what life is all about.
Although you see the world different than me
Sometimes I can touch the part, the wonders that you see.
All the new colors and pictures you design
Oh sweet darling, I’m so glad you are a child of mine.
You don’t need direction, you know which way to go.
And I don’t want to hold you back, I just want to watch you grow.
You’re the one who taught me, you don’t have to look behind.
Oh sweet darling, I’m so glad you are a child of mine.
Nobodies going to kill your dream.
Until you have to live your life
There’s always been people to make it harder for a while
But you’ll change their minds when they see you smile.
The times you were born in
may not have been the best
but you can make the times to come
better then the rest.
I know that you’ll be honest even if you can’t always be kind,
Oh yes, sweet darling, so glad you are a child of mine.
I am a hopeless romantic and I know exactly who I got it from.
DNA is an interesting thing. Even though I was not raised by my father, (in fact I spent very little time with him during my childhood) I say and do things that were exactly like him. It’s sort of funny really. And it was something he and I shared in the last few months of his life that amazed both of us.
My mother never said bad things about my dad even though they were divorced when I was very young however by not talking to me about him at all it sort of left me up to imagine in my mind what he was like. Not knowing, I imagined he was this larger than life kind of guy who could do anything. I imagined he was a gentle giant with a heart of gold and the strength of a mighty oak. I believed he could rescue me from all harm and would protect me if he ever had the chance. I believed he was kind and good and strong and I was so proud of him – even though I didn’t really know him.
I wasn’t too far off, well as far as this grown up little girl is concerned, I was exactly right. I’m a hopeless romantic and under his rough exterior so was he.
My dad once worked as a sheet metal worker at the Naval shipyard. When he was just a young man, with not much money as he went through the apprenticeship program, he fashioned a ring for my mother. It was made from a metal nut. He somehow molded it and brushed it into 2 small hearts – side by side and gave this to her. I still have it today – she kept it all these years. When I hold it in my hand I can feel the love and pride that he felt when he crafted it for her and I can still feel her love for him. Funny how something so small can seal the good memories to our hearts.
When I was 16, my dad gave me a watch. Not just any old watch. A very special watch. It was a beautiful gold watch in the shape of two hearts with diamonds around the face. I still remember what he said when I opened that little box. All those years apart – even though I wasn’t in his life – our hearts were as one.
Dad remarried to a woman who I came to love years later. She bridged the gap for me between who I thought my dad was and who he actually was. She never tried to be a “mother” to me – she knew that role was already filled. We did however, become great friends.
When she died (at a very young age) my dad was heartbroken. He purchased a slab of white marble to have a head stone made for her grave site. He then drew a pattern he wanted carved into the marble. He couldn’t find anyone willing to do it for fear of damaging this rather large and expensive beautiful piece of marble. Determined as he was, he found a mill up in the mountains who could show him how to carve the marble and then allow him to use their tools so he could do it himself.
And so he did. Two hearts cut out of the marble with her name engraved on it and his to be added later. White, big and beautiful. Even today as you ride by the cemetery you can see it stand out among all the other stones there.
Always two hearts… two hearts as one…
Romantic?
You think?… I know!
My song to you
I can remember when you fit in the palm of my hand.
You felt so good in it. No bigger than a minute.
And how it amazes me, you’re changing with everything.
Faster than a flower blooms
They grow up all too soon.
Let them be little. Cause they’re only that way for a while.
Give them hope, give them praise, give them love every day. Let them cry, let them giggle, let them sleep in the middle, but oh, just let them be little.
And I’ve never felt so much in one little tender touch. I live for those kisses, prayers and your wishes. And now that you’re teaching me, things only a child can see, every night while we’re on our knees, all I ask is,
let them be little. Cause they’re only that way for a while.
So innocent, a precious soul, you turn around, it’s time to let them go.
So let them be little. Cause it’s only that way for a while.
Give them hope, give them praise, give them love every day. Let them cry, let them giggle, let them sleep in the middle, but oh, just let them be little.
