Welcome back to Finish The Sentence Friday Blog Hop (FTSF). We give you a sentence and you finish it (however long or short you’d like). Still loving our new banner, thanks to the lovely Michelle of Crumpets and Bollocks (seriously, it is awesome and can’t thank her enough for playing around with this in photoshop of us all).
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And now for this week’s sentence to finish: “Dear Dad…“
Next week’s sentence to finish: OFF next weekend (summer every other week now!!)
I admit we had a bit of a complicated relationship when I was growing up, especially in my teen years.
See, dad your are old school Italian – born and raised in Brooklyn, NY.
As a kid, you were always there for me and I don’t ever remember not having you indeed there, but still as I was growing up, I was asserting my independence as teens (especially girls – god help me twice over on this one now) do.
Dad, to me as a little girl, you were big and scary. See Dad, I was always small for my age (like your granddaughter Emma) and you were over 6 feet tall. Mom was a stay at home mom. So, whenever, we did something wrong she would tell us, “Wait until your father gets home.”
Not going to lie, she painted you as the bad guy and being only 4 ’11” herself, I guess she needed us to be afraid of something or someone – dad. I still recall her also telling us that until we were taller then her, we couldn’t answer her back.
At 4’11” with you as her husband over 6 feet tall, she didn’t stand a shot in the dark on this! I am 5’2″ and have been that height since I was 14 years old. I remember the day, I finally realized, I was taller then her. I thought for sure this meant I could now say and do whatever I wanted.
But still, Dad you were the enforcer and I guess I resented that a bit, especially by the time I was a teenager. If you would say black, I would simply say white to piss you off.
I knew full well that you were an early riser and by the time, I was in college, I would come home from dates and being out late to make sure that I would walk in as you were getting up for the day.
One of these nights, you turned to me, looking me in the eyes, begrudgingly saying, “Good Morning Sunshine.”
To which, I responded cooly and flatly to you, “Good Night!”
But so much of that changed when I got married. The day of my wedding, it was just you and I, Dad in the limo heading to the church for the 2:30 wedding mass.
You turned to me and asked me with a smile on your face, “Are you sure you want to do this? You know we have a limo for a few hours and could find some fun to be had!”
It was then I realized that you were trying to actually lighten the mood and weren’t this big, bad guy after all – you had a sense of humor.
I, of course, told you, I had a wedding to get to, but the offer was appreciated and tempting.
You walked me down the aisle that day beaming yet nervous to give away your only little girl and still you whispered at the altar that I would still always be your little girl – always. You danced with me to Daddy’s Little Girl that night and like to think that from that day, we came to understand each other a bit better and even can see where each other is coming from.
I am thankful for that especially having you suffer a stroke and massive heart attack last year. Thankfully you did pretty much recover, but still you aren’t the once strong, scary man of my youth (to be expected by what you went through).
And yet now, you are just Dad, who is still always there if I need him, who I thank god for giving us a second chance to have a better, stronger relationship with each other, especially since we lost mom’s dad (my Poppy) 15 years ago, who was my second father growing up. From that loss, I learned not to waste time or energy being so childish, because either of us could be here one moment and not the next. You just truly never know and never wanted to regret this time with you.
Now that wrote my Dad a letter for Father’s Day, please share yours today, too.
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