My dad was not the kind and loving type.  I have no memories of his arms open wide, waiting for a hug from his little girl.  I don’t remember being comforted when nothing seemed to be going my way.  I don’t ever remember him saying he was proud of me, I don’t remember ever seeing “Dad” signed by him in a birthday card and I could have almost said he never told me he loved me but he managed to fit that in just before he died.  This is probably sounding like a very sad story coming from a somewhat bitter daughter but if you continue reading, you might see it quite differently.

Dad married a woman that would allow him to “be the boss.”  They grew up in that generation where men were men that worked hard to provide for their families and the women took care of the children and the home.  Together my parents brought a daughter and a son and then another daughter into the world and created a foundation for these 3 children that would prepare all of us for this crazy world we attempt to understand.

We didn’t have money.  I know this now but when I was a kid, I had no idea my friend’s dads had better jobs with better pay and I’m pretty sure they didn’t know that either.  Dad provided us with a swing set, a sand box, a teeter totter he made and a tire swing.  We all had bikes he picked up at auction sales.  We swam in a dented old watering tank he most likely got from a farmer that had replaced it due to the fact it was damaged.  Dad could always fix things and find a way to put them into our world.   We probably didn’t realize it then, but now we know he was actually “hugging” us and telling us he “loved” us the only way he knew how and sometimes that meant pounding the dents out of an old watering tank so his kids would have a place to cool off on those hot summer days when we weren’t riding our bikes or making mud pies.

I didn’t get to be a Girl Scout or take piano lessons or  join 4-H or play in the school band but I didn’t know it was because my parents couldn’t afford it.  It was never something offered to us and we never questioned it.  I didn’t get an allowance.  I got a job.  I believe it was when I was in the 3rd grade, my dad would bring home the mail for an elderly lady that lived down the bumpy road and through a hole in the lilac bushes.  I would deliver it to her doorstep and she would pay me $2 a week.  Our parents never took any of our money and they never forced us to save it.  They let us decide what needed to happen and spending it was always at the top of my list.   One of my first purchases was a mood ring I discovered at the tiny little grocery and variety store I shopped at on a regular basis.  The ring was $6 but the lady that ran the store was willing to take payments.  It took me 3 weeks to own that ring but what a valuable life lesson that taught me.    Eventually I moved on to bigger and better things and before long I was the proud new owner of a digital clock radio!

My parents never established a certain bedtime for us.  Dad would say it was up to us just how tired we wanted to be in the morning.  That took a while to click but he knew what he was doing and he knew he wouldn’t be the one to suffer if we didn’t get enough sleep.  If we woke up tired and cranky we knew better than to let him know as there was no place in his world for whining or tantrums.  Mom was a bit more lenient with some of those things but we knew better than to take advantage of that too often as we needed her to tell dad when we broke something.  It always appeared less scary that way, at least for us.

As the years came and went I eventually got married and moved out of my parents home.  My dad continued to shop at auction sales retrieving second hand treasures and nothing gave him more pleasure than when he bought something he knew one of us was going to have a use for.  One time he ran across an old doll he thought I would like and he bought it for me.  It was missing an arm but he was sure I could fix it up.  I mentioned earlier that he never told me he was proud of me but he knew a doll missing an arm was surely in the right hands when it found mine.

Dad wasn’t the kind and loving type but I’m beginning to realize just how blessed I was then, with a dad that always provided a safe and comfortable home for his wife and all of his children. I learned to respect people.  I learned the value of a dollar and I learned that hugs and kisses can come disguised in ways only a grown child might understand.

My dad has been gone since May of 2009 but every once in awhile he makes his presence known as I have a brother that is a lot like him.  He’s short tempered and he still picks on me and I’m pretty sure he’s never hugged me.  Last night while we were sitting at the table playing cards, I heard my phone chirp to let me know I had received a text.  It was from my brother.  He had gone to a second hand shop in search of something and ended up buying an old vintage doll buggy.  He asked me what I thought it was worth as I’ve been in the doll business for nearly 20 years and I said I would do some research and get back to him.  His next text read, “It’s yours.”  It had never happened before in all my 49 years but last night, I got a “hug” from my brother, a “dad style” hug!