A Hug From Dad
©Gail Lipe
I cried when he didn’t say good by. I was little. He always hugged me and said good by before he went to work. But that day, the sun drew me outside to play. He had to leave before the sun let me go.
I cried when he spanked me. I deserved it. I lied. I tried to get my sister in trouble. It didn’t work. He always knew. He taught me honesty and trust. Sometimes it hurt. Mostly by the way he lived.
I cried when he moved us to Minnesota. I was 7. The new kid. I was picked on in school. He always made me feel safe at home. He would envelope me in his arms. I loved his hugs.
He cried standing in the window as we drove away. My sister was getting married. He couldn’t go. Back surgery. He wanted to walk her down the isle.
I cried that he wasn’t excited when I got engaged. He thought the boy was not a good fit. He wanted better for me.
He cried when he gave me away. I held his arm tight. He made sure I knew he loved me.
I cried when he helped put the crib together. Both sets of parents worked on it. Our baby was loved before she was born. All our children were.
I cried as I watched his love overflow. He would fix old toys for the kids. Then patiently teach them how they work.
I cried when delinquent bills stacked up. A monster named Gambling reared its ugly head. Foreclosure notices. To where did my dad disappear?
We cried when I told him my children couldn’t be around him so much. His moody yelling at my mother was unacceptable.
I cried as “he’s dieing” registered in my brain. He was in the hospital. The weekend was all he had left.
I cried in the car as I raced to tell him “thank you”. For loving me. For teaching me honesty, trust, responsibility. For loving my children.
I cried as he told my children a story. They visited Saturday night. He told them about an elephant that paints pictures. A precious moment. He truly loved them.
I cried, standing in the doorway, as his earthly body gave up. It was a cold Sunday. I kept his coat, a hug from dad.