LETTER TO MY DADDY

I guess I am a good Southern girl.  No matter how old I get, my father will always be my Daddy.

(This was a part of my Daddy's life that I do not remember - he loved to fish.)

This week, I heard someone on a radio show read a letter she had written to her father who passed away a few years ago.  I started thinking about what I would say in a letter to my father.  My Daddy passed away at the age of 86.  I was a part of his second family, and he was 59 when I was born.  I was 27 when he died, so he has now been gone more than half my life.

(Daddy with his only son, and his son's only son.)

Dear Daddy,

I have a lot of good memories of you.  You had such a great sense of humor.  (I got it from you and Momma.)  I remember hearing - and repeating - your Cajun stories a number of times.

You were generous to a fault!  There is nothing you liked better than to give something, especially something that you made yourself.  I admired the things that you made - various crafts from cow horns, birds from peach pits, walking canes, snakeskin belts, and the wooden birds.  You started making these things after you went blind, and that was pretty amazing!  Of course, you were a slave driver when it came to painting those wooden birds!  Something I enjoyed going out to your workshop and painting Blue Jays, Orioles, Scarlet Tanagers, and Redheaded Woodpeckers.  It was like a production line out there!  And other times, that was the last thing I wanted to do.  But you wanted to make sure you had some gift in your pocket to give a child at church.

I said generous to a fault because you would give things away even if Momma and I wanted them.  She would get so mad when you gave away one of her favorite horn birds.  And I was non too thrilled when you gave away a litter of kittens and a dog at different times while I was in school.  Broke my heart!

You loved cow horns, and would seize any opportunity to bring more home.  I remember one time, we were hauling some home - most likely from Uncle Leo's house - and they had gotten wet...so they smelled really bad.  Momma got a speeding ticket because she was trying to outdrive the odor!

Uncle Leo also was a co-conspirator when it came to your love of snake skins.  I remember stopping on some country road in Georgia while the two of them skinned a snake.  Bad thing was that they squirted liquid from it into my eye.  My mother was terrified that it was venom and that I would be blinded.  (It wasn't and I wasn't.) 

I definitely inherited your love of all animals.  We must have had just about every pet when I was a child.  You raised beagles.  We had dogs, cats, rabbits, hamsters, birds, gerbils, guinea pigs, ducks, a rooster, a skunk, and monkeys.  The monkeys were mainly conversation pieces for you.  Anything that would help you start a conversation with anyone, anywhere, was great for you.  (And I still tell people NOT to have a monkey as a pet!)  You were a sucker for any stray that I would bring home.  The trick was to do it before Momma got home from work!  All I had to ask was, "Daddy, can I keep him?" in that sweet voice.  You could never say no.

I do have some not-so-pleasant memories also.  I remember how we would argue like crazy.  You and I were a lot alike in many ways.  And I am pretty sure you knew that I liked to argue just for the sake of arguing.  Even you would say that if you said the sky was blue that I would swear it was green!  You told me that I would make a good lawyer because I liked to argue.

You were the king of the guilt trip.  Whenever I had to leave to go home after spending a few days with you and Momma, you would get so sad and tell me over and over again how you hated to see me leave.  I tell my kids now that I am immune to guilt trips because I was raised by the master.

I also remember how hard you could be on Momma.  You would quiz her about every penny she spent at the story, and about every conversation she had on the phone.  "What was so funny?!" you'd ask if she happened to laugh on the phone.

I also inherited from you the ability to hold grudges for inordinate amounts of time.  I saw you get mad over something one of your brothers-in-law said (I never knew what it was) and you refused to ever see him again.  I am not quite as bad, but if someone burns me bad enough, they are as good as dead to me.

I imagine your eldest daughter inherited this "gift" also.  She was not please that you married my mother and wound up turning her back on you.  Neither of you let go of this grudge to make things good before you died.  In turn, my half-sister has never wanted anything to do with me.  Kind of a shame.

I feel I have missed out on a lot on your side of the family.  I am just getting to know a few of them and am grateful for that.  

I don't even know where to start with your son who is now gone also.  I don't know where the blame lies in how he turned out - a womanizing alcoholic. I still hate the smell of beer because he would always have too many when he visited.  I think he truly loved you, though he could also push your buttons and make your furious.  I believe he truly appreciated everything you and Momma did for him.  But he made all kind of promises to me that, as a child, I believed, and was in turn very disappointed.  And I am still bitter that he took a chunk of the house that you and Momma bought and raised me in.  But it is what it is.

I would love to have a chance to sit down and talk to you now.  You would really liked my husband and would have adored our kids.  I am so sorry that you didn't get to meet my family.  I believe that you know what a wonderful family I have and am proud and happy.  And several years ago, Momma joined you, and I hope that you two are fishing together in Heaven.  

Daddy, I am proud of a lot of qualities that I received from you, and just want you to know that I appreciate you.

Until we meet again, I love you!

Your daughter,
Margaret