Father’s Day

This Sunday, we celebrate fathers. It’s a bittersweet time for me, because I miss my father so much. But, I have the privilege of being married to a man who is a good father to my children…which he didn’t have to be.

Jimmy is not the biological father of my two grown daughters, but they love him as if he is. He has always been good to them, and treated them well. When I mentioned this to him the other day, he took no credit. He said that I raised them, he just happened to be around.

Hannah was 18 and Emily was 13 when Jimmy and I married. Therefore, Emily is the only one who lived with him for any length of time after our marriage, and they are close. Hannah left for college soon after we married, but Jimmy and she have certainly bonded and love one another unconditionally, and enjoy one another’s company.

Although Hannah didn’t live with Jimmy long, we have lots of fond memories. Like when we were moving her into/out of school, and Jimmy was pulling a trailer in a restaurant parking lot, and managed to bump a Mercedes. It was not pretty. (There was no visible damage to the vehicle.)

Now Hannah has had a baby. You better believe Jimmy claims that little girl. Naturally, he is not real hands on at four months, but he’s looking forward to the day she’s a little older and can ride on the four-wheeler and follow Pawpaw around.

Emily repeatedly says Jimmy is a better father to her than hers ever was. And, she was close to her father. But, he and I divorced when she was just months old, so she has no memory of living with him. Although it was just us girls for some 13 years, those five years that Emily was at home after Jimmy and I married were quite formative.

Jimmy and I dated awhile before marrying. He remembers grilling hamburgers and hot dogs for the concession stand when Hannah was in band. He remembers going to football games to watch Emily cheer.

There are also memories of challenging times when the blended family was a little more like oil and water…but we made it through. We all love each other.

Jimmy has three biological children, and each has lived with us, albeit briefly during our marriage. They adore their father, although we don’t see enough of each other. This COVID-19 mess has really taken a toll on family gatherings for sure.

I hope Jimmy realizes how loved he is, and that he is appreciated for loving my children. He’s an answer to prayer.

But, I started out wanting to talk a little about my Daddy. Yes, I’m 64 years old, but he was still my Daddy. His death was unfortunate, and I get upset every time I think about it. Yes, he lived into his 80s, and was of sound mind and body. That is, until he tripped on a curb in Atlanta, broke his hip, and subsequently died in the hospital.

But, I’m not going to dwell on that. I’m going to remember the good times. Daddy definitely mellowed as he aged. When he was younger, he was a bit feisty, and sometimes a bit chauvinistic. But, in his later years, he was mellow and so kind.

We used to get together almost every weekend. He’d come out to the house for dinner and we’d play cards and just enjoy one another’s company.

My children and nieces and nephews have fond memories of going to his house in the afternoon and sharing his snack. He often had cheese, and maybe crackers and certainly grapes. He also would have his homemade trail mix. He’d take a can of nuts, add raisins, and honestly I don’t remember what else, and that would always be available.

There would be a cocktail, of course, for those of age.

Speaking of cocktails, in the later years Daddy pretty much only drank wine. Hannah tells the story when he and his friend from Scotland came to Applebee’s where she was working and had dinner and some wine. After a while, the owner suggested it was time to cut them off. Hannah still laughs when she tells the story.

But the best memories of my father, who could be a curmudgeon at times, are those of his charismatic personality, and his intelligence.

At the prayer vigil Sunday evening, Walter Smith said he was anxious to see what my father would write about it. (He and I both know Daddy won’t write any more, but I am his offspring). I understood. Daddy was a newspaperman all his life, and he had a way with words.

He was also fair and level-headed, and a veteran. I don’t know how he came to be who he was…I think it was partly his upbringing and probably his military service had something to do with it.

But, my parents always made it clear you judge people individually. There was never any suggestion that black people, or people of other religious beliefs, nationalities or whatever should be treated any differently than a friend or family member. We were raised to respect others, and be worthy of respect ourselves.

My dad left a great legacy. I sure do miss him.