Happy Birthday Daddy

This is one of those posts where I get a bit sappy. But, above all, there is no way I can do justice to the topic at hand. No matter what I say or how I say it, I will never express anything even remotely resembling my true feelings here.

I have the greatest dad ever. Feel free to disagree and think that yours is as good or better - I'm going to say you're wrong. There is no way anyone has ever had a father this good. My father has been a police officer all of my life. He wanted, with all of his heart, to be a DJ on the radio - and he was really good at it. I have his demo tapes and I love listening to them. But he married my mom and they got pregnant with me and he knew he needed something stable. He started out as a dispatcher at the police department and eventually, over the past decades has worked his way through officer, DARE officer, sergeant, lieutenant, major, acting chief, and now assistant chief. He has achieved so much in an, often frustrating and life-sucking, job and has never honestly complained. All my dad wanted was a good life where he could spend time with us.

It is only now, in my thirties, that I realize what my dad and mom did for us. My mom didn't work until I was older; my dad was the sole provider, and on an officer's compensation, that could not have been easy. He took tons of overtime to help make sure we had everything. But none of that matters to me. I don't care what dolls or vacations or anything else I had.

My dad was always there. He voluntarily worked midnight shifts for more years than can be healthy so he would be home to stay with us when we were little or to be there when we got home from school. I have to imagine he survived for at least a dozen years on fewer than four hours sleep a night. He worked every holiday and struggled to be home in time to celebrate with us (we tell the story - humorous now - of how my mother would stand at the foot of the stairs with bells and she would ring them to tell us "Santa is still here" to keep us upstairs until my dad could get off his shift). I never realized just how hard it is to be a good parent and to work and to be sleep deprived, and I will never experience what he did - but now I can appreciate it.

My dad took us camping and fishing. My dad would take me every Sunday morning to the 7am Mass and then we would go to the St. Louis Zoo together for the day. My dad would hold me and rock me and sing "Edleweiss." My dad still rubs my back and hugs me when I come down for a weekend and says, "thank you so much for coming down. I love it when you're here."

Well, Happy Birthday, Dad! I hope I can be half as good a parent as you have always been to me.