Daddy's Little Girl

I saw this on a friends post today and interestingly it applies to a current situation I am somewhat involved with, which was the first thought I had when I saw it. 

If you don’t know my niece Bella, that is too bad, she is pretty special.  And I am not saying that because she is my niece.  She really is.  So is my niece Kolbie.  We are all pretty tight.  The thing is their Fathers need to be feared.  Brother-in-law and Brother are not touchy feely guys in the least, but you mess with their daughters and you will become witness to a creature not commonly witnessed on earth.  Thank God that nothing horrific has happened to either one of them, but I truly pity the fool who tries to hurt them in any way.  I will be very, very, very, very close behind them with my Sammy Sosa bat.  A bat I clearly am anxious to use. 

This picture also brought something else up, something that rather surprised me.  I am not Daddy’s little girl…that would be Sister. 

I do not know how my own father felt about my sister and me when we were growing up as he is also not into overly showing his emotions.  I do know that I basically only had one boyfriend in High School and so did Sister, basically for her whole life, so that part was rather easy for him.  Not having to worry about us running around with a plethora of boys.  Even when I left for college I don’t think he ever “worried” about me and boys or me getting hurt by a boy.  He absolutely loved the only boy I ever brought home from college, which instantly made me not want to be with him anymore (sorry Dan), as well as the obvious reason which would show its face a few years down the road.  But when I saw this today it struck a unique cord.  Unique in that honest to God before today, I never even thought about it. 

My Dad has never and will never (I guess never say never, but it is not realistic that it will happen) threaten to knock the kneecaps out of a boy/man for hurting me.  I wonder if he ever thinks about that or appreciates that or is grateful for that.  My guess is it has probably never occurred to him.

When I came out to my Father, his only comments were that my life was going to be very hard and he hoped I would be able to deal with the crap that would be said about me.  This was better than what I thought he would say.  And the one time that I saw him stand up for me was when a fight broke out at the bar and I ended up between two guys, who ended up through my door and into the street.  He didn’t touch anyone, but he was right there making sure no one touched me.  This caused him to get the crap kicked out of him a week later, which I will never forget (and is when I received my Sammy Sosa bat), but all in all, my Dad has had it pretty easy in regards to “having my back.”

The last time I saw my father cry is when my Uncle Oley passed away.  He was not really my Uncle, but I called him that for my whole life.  It really affected him.  Prior to that I cannot recall a moment when my Father got upset with anyone for hurting or upsetting any of us.  He hates conflict.  I know he loves us and I know he loves his Grandkids, but he is not a fighter, not really a lover either, but definitely not a fighter.

The reaction this picture caused me was to wonder if he ever gets sad that I will never have a conventional wedding…that my life is very different from what he probably expected it would be, if he even had any expectations…if he ever sometimes thinks about all the times we spent together, traveling to Minnesota…or the day I had decided I was done having to wait for him to take me fishing and I taught myself how to drive the boat…or how he was the only one who said DO NOT RUN YOUR OWN BAR, but was my biggest sales and marketing person. 

My Dad is not the kind of Dad who says, honey I am so proud of you…so I don’t know if he is or if he rolls his eyes at the thought of the fact that I am still living at home after chasing dreams and only running into walls.  I suppose I could ask him, but I guess the mystery is easier for me to deal with.

Honestly, I just wonder if my Dad ever thought where I was concerned, that he needed to get his gun out and clean it…I am guessing, No.