I am one of the luckiest people in the world when it comes to family. I have amazing parents and three wonderful sisters that I consider lucky to call my best friends. The older I get the more I realize this to be true.
My father has always been a man of few words. He lived in our house with four daughters, my mom, and even when we had pets, they were girl cats. He never complained even when I am sure we were less than delightful company. I can't even begin to count the number of people that would ask him how it was to live in our house and he would just smile, never saying any of the things that, looking back, I am sure he had to be thinking.
Dad could be counted on to be home from work at 4:15 every day. He was not at all embarrassed to hold my Holly Hobbie sleeping blanket for me at track meets and would just roll his eyes when I wouldn't do the one thing he asked me to do because I would be late for work. He would sit for hours and explain complicated math problems with the patience of a saint, and I am not proud to say that I was not all that patient with him.
Now that I am married with my own family I feel a special kinship with him. I live in a house with my husband, two boys, and our male dog. Even our African dwarf frogs are reportedly boys. It is a house full of wrestling, fighting and gas. I have never gotten to watch "Beauty and the Beast" with my kids, but I can recite "Cars" and "Star Wars" nearly word for word. If I step on one more Matchbox Car or Lego I just may lose my mind.
Often times when I wish that I was playing with and E-Z Bake Oven instead of dinosaurs and Tonka Trucks I think about how my dad must have felt. He never once made me feel like he wished he had at least some boys instead of all girls. Since I am the youngest I heard all the time about how I must have been the last try for a boy. I could always truthfully say to those people that my dad was happy with what he got. I hope that when people ask my kids they can feel the same.
I love you, Dad.