Daddy's Little Girl

It's that time of year when memories seem to haunt my waking hours.  

I was "daddy's little girl". 

On my father's chest of drawers in my parent's bedroom was a picture of me taken at my grandparent's cottage.  When my father died my mother wanted me take something of his as a tangible memory.  The only thing I wanted was that picture....it has sat on my chest of drawers since his death. 

There was a reason I wanted that picture to remember my father -- it was to me a symbol of what our relationship was.........

You see -- I had been playing on the beach with my cousins when my grandfather rounded everyone up to go down the road to the ice cream shop.  My father wouldn't let me go in my swimsuit -- he insisted my mother change me out of my swimsuit.  AND then, as my grandfather and my cousins disappeared down the road, my father insisted on taking a photograph of his "little girl".  I didn't want to stand still and 'smile'.  I wanted to go for ice cream.  I cried.  BUT my father always got what he wanted -- so he got his picture of me with a tear stained face.

That picture symbolizes my relationship with my father in so many ways.  It wasn't the healthiest of relationships not by any standard....... but I have been remembering the good things about our relationship.  He was my rock... he kept me grounded... he was always there for me........ always no matter what.

They say that the relationship a daughter has with her father is the bench mark for her in finding a "forever man".  (well that's what they say-- shrug)  I never found anyone like my father -- never found my rock -- never found anyone who would always be there for me.

My father died a few days after my birthday over 30 years ago.  And my birthday is fast approaching.... maybe that's why my father is in my thoughts and tugging at my heart.