He’s a good, good Father

The word Good, means:
Of a favorable character or tendency, that can be relied on, virtuous, right, commendable as in a good person with good conduct.
(2): kind, benevolent with good intentions, of the highest worth or reliability.
We sing a song at our church that says, “you’re a good good Father, that’s who you are.”
Every time we sing that song in church it just touches me so deeply.
Maybe because I have very little memory of my own dad.
I wouldn’t ever call him Father, that did not fit his personality.
He was dad. He was grandpa and great grandpa, his name was Nick.
I often feel like I missed a lot by not having a memory bank that I can draw from.
I don’t feel I am less than others who had a wonderful dad figure in their life; just feel sometimes that it would have been nice to have that ability to ask him questions, or have that knowing deep inside, that I was ‘special’ to him as HIS daughter.
It goes to the core of who we are, to know that we were loved.
Often I would hear the comment “she is such a daddies girl, and I could not relate.”
What did that mean?
In my room I have a picture of a little girl sitting near a window holding a pink rose, waiting.
Waiting. For him to return. That is how I felt for many years. Wondering and waiting.
He left when I was young. I didn’t ever have that experience of his ‘voice’ as I grew from a little girl to a teen.
No affirmations of who I was and no way of knowing in his heart how he felt.
When we met in my adult years I was around my mid 30’s and it was both odd and surreal to see him.
Then he would come visit us at our home in the country and it was strange for me to look out the window and say, “Oh dad’s here.”
It was nice. We were casual. No formalities and no rules. We had a ‘quiet understanding.’
I wish now that he is gone I could look out the window and say, “Oh dad’s here.”
I wish that I could talk to him and tell him things I missed while he was here.
In the quiet of this rainy day, I miss him.