Favorite Memories
I have a lot of favorite memories of my father. However, my favorite memory of all just happened recently. For a while we were unsure if daddy would be able to come to my wedding, although he kept telling me that nobody or nothing was going to stop him. ortunately, he was able to come. He was sick and having a hard time holding his head up, but when we were announced married and started back down the aisle, he grabbed my hand and told me he loved me so much. I am so thankful to God that he gave me that moment.
There are so many memories to choose from. When I was little, and when lived in Alabama, my daddy worked for the county doing construction work. I can remember waiting at the end of the driveway for him to come home. He would stop and I'd jump in with him and grab his lunch box where I would always find some kind of treat, most of the time a moon pie.
I remember him making the ham for Christmas dinner every year. I also remember the year he gave me my first diamond. Each of us girls got a little heart with small little diamond chips all around it. He was so proud to give it to us. I still have mine in my jewelry box.
I remember how I thought he was so overprotective when guys came around in my teenage years. He made one boy leave, change clothes, and take out his ear ring before he would give him permission to take me out on a date. Now, I know that was just one more way of taking care of me and showing me how special I was to him.
After mom passed, daddy would come to my house to check on me and bring me salads. We would talk and every time he left, he would say "I love you baby." I would give anything to have one of those talks again.
One of my favorite memories as an adult is dancing with my daddy. The last time we danced, he told me I may have to hold him up to finish, and I told him I would hold on tight. We moved so slowly to the country music and the I felt so much love and felt so blessed to get the chance to have such moments with him.
Daddy always made me feel like I was his favorite. I'm sure he did the other kids too. When I would visit him in the nursing home, he would always tell everyone that came by "This is my baby. She's a teacher." I knew without a doubt, that he was proud of me.