I was at a staff meeting the other day and afterwards a lot of my co-workers stay around the chat. Somehow, we got on the topic of Dads and almost every staff said how much they don’t and never have gotten along with their Dads. Many of them are at least my parents’ age and most are older, so I understand that it’s a different generation, but many of them said that they barely ever talked to their Dad and that they couldn’t wait to get away from them when they were teenagers.
I was pretty much the only one who had nothing negative to say about my Dad. My Dad was never extremely strict and I can’t really remember any fights that we even had when I was younger.
I loved my Dad so much that I used to cry when I was in Grade 1 when he dropped me off because I wanted him to stay with me. We have all these pictures of a 6-year-old Sarah crying because I never wanted him to leave. Eventually the only way that I would calm down would be if my Dad stayed for storytime with my sister Kelly and sat with me at the back while Kelly sat on their teacher’s lap as she read to the class.
My Dad even took time off work when I was born and my Mom went back when I was only a few months old. My Dad did this with all of us and switched his work around once we were in school and worked 4-12 shifts for the first 11 years of my life. I feel bad for him and my Mom because she worked full-time weekdays and he worked full-time evenings and some weekends. They barely got to see each other, but they made it work for us kids.
My Dad is a great man and sometimes I don’t think I say that enough. I am grateful for everything that my Dad did for us. He made us the people we are today and I thank him for that everyday of my life.