Wonderful, Loving, Imperfect Dad

A few weeks ago, my dad rushed to our rescue as grandma’s basement flooded during a heavy rainstorm.  He stayed for hours helping us and when he finally left, Blair and I sat and talked about how wonderful my dad is.  During our conversation, I recalled the countless situations in which my dad has come to my rescue without so much as a sigh of annoyance or inconvenience.  My dad’s a worker you see – a very hard worker.  And there’s no one he works harder for than his children. 

I remember as a teenager being a constant recipient of his thoughtfulness.  He would frequently wash my car for me when I wasn’t home and then leave a fresh pack of green mint gum and a $20 bill in the change tray.  He never expected a thank you.  He never brought up his acts of service.  The joy from quietly serving us was all the delight in the world to him.   

When I was in high school, the power plant where my dad worked in Salt Lake shut down and sent all of its workers to Price, Utah.  My dad didn’t want to uproot all of us from our cushy lives in Fruit Heights, so he bought a little trailer and moved down to Price by himself.  For four years, through many harsh and cold winters, he lived in a small trailer during the work week and drove home to visit us on the weekends.  I don’t remember my dad complaining or loafing around when he came home on the weekends.  But I do remember his optimism and his cheerful smile when he walked in the door.   As I’ve talked to him about that time, I’ve realized what a lonely, physically difficult, and emotionally trying that experience was for him.  The striking thing for me to think about is that I know he’d do it all again.  He has and continues to make great sacrifices for us.    

I remember one time that I broke curfew as a teenager and came home at four o’clock in the morning.  Unbeknownst to me, my dad had realized I wasn’t home in the middle of the night and went out looking for me with my sister in the passenger seat and his nine millimeter handgun in tow.  I’m not sure whether he was planning on shooting me or the boy I was with.  Either way, when I saw him sitting at the kitchen table that morning, I sheepishly approached him expecting to either get grounded until I was a middle-aged woman or be murdered right there on the spot.  What really happened was a more heartbreaking punishment than I expected.  With a tear rolling down his cheek, he choked out the quiet words, “ I love you so much.  I was very worried about you.”  You’ll be glad to know I was neither grounded nor murdered.  After the crying and hugging was over, we went fishing together. 

My dad saved my life a few years ago.  In that treacherous moment, my dad chose to let go of the raft and save his daughter who was pinned down by the crashing water.  It still brings us to tears every time we talk about it.  I knew once again in that moment that my dad would sacrifice his life for his children. 

My dad isn’t perfect.  His childhood was littered with abuse and crippling personal insecurities.  But I believe that my dad was determined to change many of those patterns of mistreatment and above all show his children love.  He wasn’t always perfect at controlling his anger and frustrations and his quirky way of speaking has earned him countless laughs from us over the years.  But I always knew he was trying to be a good dad and I knew that he loved me.  

I feel blessed to have an imperfect, unique, funny, optimistic, hard-working, fun loving, sensitive, and selfless father.  Happy Father’s Day, Dad. 

And here are a few more snapshots from our Father's Day BBQ.