daughter to father

There is this young couple who lives near my home.

I don't know their names but I remember when two years ago

they had a precious baby girl.

Each morning when I walk I pass in front of their home

at about 6:30 am.

On these mornings there is a ritual that takes place.

Daddy carries his little girl to the car and straps her in her car seat.

He lingers in the back seat kissing her as mommy waits patiently

in the drivers seat. Each morning he finally closes the door

that now separates him from his baby and he kisses

her mommy good-bye through the rolled down window.

He waves as they pull out and then goes inside to dress himself.

Every morning their day begins this way.

This makes me happy and I think what an influence that single

ritual will make in that little girls life.

That she, every morning, is the most important thing

in her daddy's life.

Last week I followed a bus to school.

I quite enjoy watching parents put their children on the bus.

This particular morning a daddy waits

outside his old, run-down house with his probably 4 year old daughter.

His hair is long and greasy, held back by a bandanna.

He has tattoo's, is in shorts and barefoot.

He patiently waits for the bus to stop while holding

his little girl's hand.

Then, instead of sending her to the bus, he

walks with her in front of the bus, holds her hand

as she climbs the bus steps,

he slowly, once again crosses the street where I

believe he will continue walking down his driveway.

Yet he stops, and this untypical dad

begins to wave, he stays there and waves

long past the time his little girl can see him.

Again I am touched by this show of

affection by a nontraditional daddy.

I am not a fan of Linsday Lohan, but this morning

I hear her singing this song and I wonder if her haunting

words to her father are the reasons why she is so troubled:

CONFESSIONS OF A BROKEN HEART

I WANT FOR THE POSTMAN TO BRING ME A LETTER

I WAIT FOR THE GOOD LORD TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER

& I CARRY THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD ON MY SHOULDERS

A FAMILY CRISIS THAT ONLY GROWS OLDER

SO WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO

DAUGHTER TO FATHER...

I AM BROKEN BUT I AM HOPING

I AM CRYING A PART OF ME IS DYING...

CONFESSIONS OF A BROKEN HEART

& I WEAR ALL YOUR OLD CLOTHES, YOUR POLO SWEATER

I DREAM OF ANOTHER YOU

THE ONE WHO WOULD NEVER LEAVE ME ALONE

TO PICK UP THE PIECES

A DADDY TO HOLD ME, THAT'S WHAT I NEEDED

SO WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO

DAUGHTER TO FATHER...

I DON'T KNOW YOU, BUT STILL I WANT TO

TELL ME THE TRUTH, DID YOU EVER LOVE ME

CAUSE THESE ARE THE CONFESSIONS OF A BROKEN HEART

I LOVE YOU...

Daddies do mean this much to their little girls.

When I was young, mom worked so when I was sick it was

daddy who took care of me,

buying me color books, cooking my favorite meals.

he made me stay in bed, brought me whatever I wanted

there. I was his baby and I felt safe.

Now at 46, when I am sick it is still him I long for.

So I challenge all you daddies out their with daughters:

If they are big girls, call them or write to them and

tell them today that you love them and what they

mean to you.

If they are little girls, pull them each individually

in your lap today and tell them how important

they are to you, that you would not be who you are

today without them.

If you get the chance to put them on a bus,

wave until you can't see the bus.

Put them love letters in their school bags.

Give them the words that Lindsay has longed to hear

" I love you"