Tuesday, June 15, 2010


Every father’s day I suffer from regrets—regrets because my father died when I was a child—regrets because I wish I’d known him better and more regrets because I certainly could have used his strong guidance when I was growing up.

My father died of a heart attack when I was 7-years-old and with every passing year my memories of him become more precious. I only wish I had more of those memories.

I remember how I used to pester Daddy on those rare afternoons when he’d come home early from work. I’d snuggle up to him and chatter endlessly, even though Mama told me, “Don’t bother your daddy. He’s trying to rest.”

On those rare afternoons, Daddy seemed to be listening to whatever nonsense I was spouting as he smoked his unfiltered Camel cigarettes. I must confess, though, I didn’t always listen to him, like the day he brought an old car home from his hardware store.

One of the doors—on the passenger’s side—was missing. Unaware of the danger, I begged Daddy to let me ride along in this mysterious old car.

“Okay, but you have to stay away from the open door,” Daddy cautioned.

I hopped in the car beside him, but soon managed to wiggle away and fall out as we rode up the hill in front of our house. I landed at the bottom of the hill, tousled and breathless.

When I glanced up, I saw Daddy, staring down at me. He didn’t scold. Instead, he said, “Are you all right?”

I felt half dead, but I wanted to impress Daddy by being tough. So I brushed myself off and answered, “Yes.”

“Okay, come on. Get in the car and let’s go,” he said.

Occasionally, Daddy would take us to a movie, but mostly he worked. He wanted to provide his family with the finer things in life: a huge brick home, a fishing pond, a swimming pool, tennis courts and our own merry-go-round. But I would have gladly traded it all for a few more years of sharing moments with him.

I’ve told my daughters their granddaddy was a great guy, but I wish they could have discovered his greatness on their own. I’ve told them of the time when I was a teenager, a strange man was wandering around our house. I called the police because Mother wasn’t home and I was afraid.

When the police questioned the man, he said he used to work for Daddy many years ago: “Whenever I needed work, Mr. Ira would always give me some.”

I’ve shared this story with my daughters because I wanted them to know their grandfather was a good man. I wanted them to know he tried to help others. I wanted them to know he was generous in giving of his time and money.

I only wish he’d had more time for me. And on Father’s Day I am again reminded of how much I miss him.


  1. our father's are so important to us, enjoyed your blog Sandy! Love ya, Janet

  2. Thank you, Janet. Sending hugs and love.

  3. I'm sure your dad would have beeen proud of his daughter. Sweet and loving memories for a special person in your life.

  4. Thank you. I often have the feeling that his spirit is with me, inspiring me.

  5. That was very sweet to read. My dad died from a heart attack when I was a teenager. I wish I had told him more often how much I loved him. He was always teasing me, but now I realize it was his way of showing his love. I still have a photo of him on a big white horse. We never forget our dads. (((((((((((((Hugs to you))))))))))))))))
    This is your husband's cousin, Janet Allen in England.

  6. Wow, Janet, a photo of your dad on a white horse. I wish I had a pic like that of my hero. Thank you for reading my article and for your comments. It's great to hear from you. Hugs back and best wishes for a wonderful life.

  7. Thanks for sharing your memories, Sandy. Sounds like your dad has a lot to be proud of in you, and you some special, lasting memories of him.

  8. And thank you for taking the time to read it, Jenny. Hugs.

  9. Thanks for sharing your story of your dad. I had my dad longer but it still wasn't long enough.

  10. Thank you Brenda. I so glad you could relate. Hugs.

  11. Sorry, Brenda, I typed that last message in a hurry. I meant to say I'm so glad you could relate. Hugs.

  12. I read your story Sandra and it brought tears to my eyes as I recalled my own Father and all the things he did for us while he was with us. I lost my Father to a doctor's mistake just before Christmas many years ago, but I know in my heart that he is still with me. There are times when I actually hear his voice calling to me and my Mother's as well. The funny part is that wherever I am and hear his voice I actually say, Yes Dad! People stare, but I don't care, he's talking to me and I to him and I know he and my Mother are watching over us.
    Thank you Janet, for your Father's memories because they reminded me so much of my own Father.
    Love and Hugs.

  13. This is a lovely story, Sandy. What precious memories! I'm sure your children appreciate these written remembrances of the grandfather they'll never know except through you.

  14. Thank you Mary and Elena for your kind words. Love and hugs.

  15. What a beautiful tribute to your Dad. I so enjoyed reading this. I have come to learn that some people, although not on this earth any longer, are more alive to us than others who are physically here. susan www.swigden.com

  16. Susan, thank you for reading the article about my Daddy and seeing into my heart. Also, thanks for taking the time to read my blog.


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