My father has been my friend for almost as long as he has been my Dad. Does that sound silly?
When I was a little girl, I looked up to my Dad, as most all little girls do. But as I was growing up, my mother had me to believe that my dad was just awful. (She shouldn’t have ever talked bad about my Dad in front of me or my sisters.) She was very vocal. She had to let me know that my dad was a “know-it-all-son-of-a-bitch” and there were so many times she would tell me something secret or private and would instruct me NOT to tell Dad. (Like when she spent the $800 for rent on a new VCR.) When I first started shaving my legs, at around age 11, she told me NOT to tell Dad because he would get mad. There were many things like that, which were part of a young girl growing up that I was instructed NOT to tell Dad because he would get mad.
When I hit high school and started thinking for myself, I realized that my Dad was a good guy. He wasn’t the asshole my mother made him out to be. He was kind and he had feelings. The first time I ever saw my Dad cry was at his baby sister’s funeral. It broke my heart. Dad was always good to us girls, and to my mother as well. There were times, he told me when I was grown, that he wanted to smack my mother upside the head, but he never did it. Why? Because he’s a genuinely good man. He would never hit a woman.
Dad made us laugh all the time. I remember when my sisters were little Dad would go outside and ride their tricycles. It was so funny to watch because he had such long legs and it had to have been difficult to ride a tricycle like that!
Dad helped us with our homework, because mom didn’t have more than an 8th grade education and if she tried to help us, she would just get mad at US because we knew “that’s not how you do it.” Anyway, Dad helped me…or rather DID my high school government paper I had to write on the Nuclear Arms Race. I was given a B on that paper and I remember being angry because Dad should have got an A on it!
Fast forward to my own kids being little and my Dad being a better Dad to them than their own father was. When it came time for me to leave, Dad helped me get my kids away from their father to start over. Dad continued to help, by being the best father figure to my kids as he could possibly be. My kids are grown and have lives of their own, away from us but my Dad continues to be here for them and for me. He is now 80 years old and has been my best friend for the past 30+ years!
So, as far as I’m concerned, EVERY STINKIN’ DAY is Father’s Day!