My Father's Love

My father is my hero, he is a protector, provider and a great adviser.  As a society we dilute the importance of a father's role, it's equally as important as the mother's role.  My father is a strong figure and role model in my life.  My father's love for me and my family has been constant and consistent.

My parents hadn't planned on having me, I was an oops.  As a child my sister told me I was a mistake, I was devastated and bawling.  I asked my father, was I a mistake?  He replied without hesitation, "Missy you were the best mistake we made."  My father is a honest man and always knew how to make you feel special.  He would work twelve plus hours a day, five days a week and also on Saturdays, but he would always come home and help us with our homework.  I never heard him complain about work, when he was home he was focused on his family.  He always told me, "the greatest thing a father can do for his children is love their mother," and he did just that.

My father was a boxer in his younger years and he also was a boxing coach.  He had a gym in our garage with a speed bag and a heavy bag.  I would watch in admiration when he would use the speed bag, it takes a lot of focus and rhythm.  I taught me to box, if you can imagine that, and I had the dream of being a female prized fighter, shocking I know.  So he taught me, he never told me that was silly or you too much of a girly girl.  I believe he was happy we had an interest together and he could teach me something.  That dream quickly faded once I learned I was a lover not a fighter.

In my twenties I had my heart broken by a boy, I don't remember all the details of that day but what I do remember is I walked my pups to my parents house then got angry about something.  My father was going to drive me home and being stubborn I stormed out and started walking home.  As I was stomping home, my father drove up beside me in his truck pleading with me to let him take me home.  After several minutes of him following me I got in his truck.  Almost immediately I started crying and eventually told how heart broken I was.  He told me he was sorry and just let me cry, he let me release my sadness and sat with me, always being constant.

Last Sunday my parents and I were having a discussion on the recent tragedies in Orlando, by the end of the conversation it boiled down to my father still wants to protect his family from the cruel world.  His children are grown and he still wants to cushion us from bad things.

My father's love has always let me be who I am, and he has encouraged me to be a strong woman.  I love this picture because it speaks volumes about him as a father.  He teaches, encourages, and again is always constant.