The First Man I Ever Loved

Of course, after all my pretty words and new found insights as I turned 30, there are still some grey areas that need work.  I do realise this, but it's easier said than done.

I spend alot of time thinking about and analysing my feelings for my father.

There is no doubt, even if he doesn't know it himself, that he was the very first man I ever loved and the one I compared all other men to since.

Yes, Daddy was my hero - still is, if I think about it.   Which I try not to, because somewhere inside, even though I am now 30 and a 'grown up', there is a piece of me that is still 13 and wants to be cross with Daddy, because Daddy went and married another lady after my Mommy died and try as I might for it not to, it does hurt very much.

I was always closer to my Mom.  She was the one I shared all my thoughts and feelings and secrets with, and I trusted her.  We had a very open relationship.  There is nothing on earth to fill the space she left behind in my life.

But this is Dad's space right now.  And while Mom was my best friend, Dad was my hero.  I always thought him to be a handsome man, his short dark hair and blue eyes and wonderful smile work well together.  My handsome Daddy.

And as a girl, my Daddy made me feel safe and protected.  Beware the boy who picked on me at school - I'd tell my Daddy.  

And let's be honest, when moms and teenage daughters butt heads, the neutralising presence of Dad goes a long way in smoothing things over. 

I loved spending time with him in the garage, watching him work.  I believed then, as I still do, even at the ripe age of 30, that my Dad could build anything and fix anything.  Not just 99%, but 110%. 

My Dad seemed to have high standards for me, which I always seemed to fall short of, even to this day.   If I could talk to him like I talked to my mom, I'd tell him that I really did try to be what he wanted.  I finished school, I got my license, bought my own first car, I partied a bit, but not too much and always behaved well.  I met a man, fell inlove and married him and I've been a true, honest and faithful wife - something my father always found very important.  I've worked hard, getting to where I am today on my own, without much help.  Just by persevering and putting in as much effort as I could.  My father hated 'half jobs' (which I was insanely good at as a teenager!).   Does he know that now I too hate half jobs and am almost pedantic about seeing something through? 

So I've really tried my best.  Where did I go wrong?  Why has Daddy never said 'Well Done'? 

Then then '30 year old voice' tells me to grow up and get real.  That I should bridge the gap somehow with my Dad and enjoy whatever years God sees fit to give us, so that somewhere along the line I don't end up writing another post about how I came to understand my dad too late, like with my Mom.  But the other part of me - the part that's just a daughter, regardless of age - wants Daddy's approval.

And I do not begrudge him his new wife, his new life.   He seems rediculously happy right now and I looked at his wedding photos with tears in my eyes, because truly, I don't ever remember seeing him look quite so happy, so healthy, so lively - Not with my mom and certainly not with me. 

My Dad always hated me 'talking out of the house' as a child.  He'd be pissed if he read this for sure!

And so I remain a closet Daddy's Girl, until my '30's' wisdom kicks me up the butt!