Father's Day

I'm quite sure bloggers across the nation are preparing their Father's Day posts at this very moment; many to express their heartfelt gratitude to the men who helped raise them, some complain about the short-coming of theirs, and still countless others to, in some way simply share the impact of what this day means to them.  Today, I join the multitudes in our quest to share a glimpse into the psyche of a child on Father’s Day.

Normally I’d say it’s best to start from the beginning, but the beginning is not what sustains me it’s the middle, so I’ll start there.   I am 14; he has just come from sunny Florida to visit me in the dead of a Minnesota winter.   Ever the adventurer, he takes me out on a frozen lake – in the car – I imagine paying homage to his teen years when he lived here and this was commonplace.  As the adrenaline coursed through my veins I recall a fleeting thought that I should be terrified at the possibility of falling through our icy playground but an unexpected emotion took over; security.  I was, after all with my DAD.  I didn’t know at the time how important this revelation was – for it was new, welcomed, and oh so sweet.  But looking back on the years, it became the cornerstone of how I knew I wanted my daughter to feel in the presence of her Dad.  I am 15; we are flying, yes, in an airplane that my Dad is piloting.  Once again the adrenaline has released a thrill I am unfamiliar with but embracing because I am with my Dad and that unspoken bond reassures me that I am safe.   I am 18, 24, 33…; the stories change but the message is constant, I am loved, I am his daughter.  I recall the first time I heard him introduce me as such.  The pride and confirmation of belonging solidified something deep within, that even though my father-daughter story was not as I would have written it if given the choice, it was my story.  Few of us can look back and not want to re-write a few of life’s chapter’s – it is nevertheless what gives us material to write the future. 

I am 37; and on this Father’s Day I am reflecting on all that is good.  No longer is the safety of a father’s provision available to those of us whose Dads were taken from us too soon, but the memories of lives touched live on.  I enjoy seeing glimpses of him in the generosity of my husband, I find solace in the unconditional love of my Mom, I marvel at the ingenuity of my daughter, and I take comfort in that still quiet place deep within reminding me that this life, is a pretty good story.

In loving reflection of the life of my Dad, Dale Anthony Shallbetter.