My Father

I never met my father. I know nothing about him. I was told he left for good the day I was born. Not much of a man to leave a woman with a two year old and a newborn. I never tried to look for him as an adult. He was never my “father”.
I was adopted by a loving family. My dad was putty in my hands. I could do no wrong! He would do anything for his little girl. He was never the punisher, so my mother had to take that role of discipline giver in our home. We didn’t have much, but I was never hungry or without clothes.
Once my parents were older, my husband and I had built an addition on our home for them to live in. It really worked well for many years. The time they spent with our three children was priceless!
After my mother passed, it was difficult for my father to adjust to his role in the family. He wanted to rule the children. This wasn’t his role to play. He would tell the children what they could and couldn’t do. This did cause tension in the home.
His health didn’t start to decline until his late 80s. He would walk up and down our street with his cane waving at the neighbors. He eventually needed a nursing home when he was in his 90s. He passed at the age of 92 1/2. A long and productive life.
He loved his wife of over 60 years, his two adopted children, his 4 grandchildren, and his one great-grandson he had the chance to meet in 2003. HE was my father, not the man who created me.
A father, much like God, loves us unconditionally. We are there for our children. We want the very best for them. We would sacrifice our own lives for our children. God sees us as His children. He is a father to the fatherless. He is a hero to those who had no one to look up to growing up. He is the true Father.
Happy Father’s Day to all!