Father's day is next Sunday and in preparation of that day I thought I would make a tribute to my father each day this week leading up to Sunday. This is day one:
My dad is truly one of the greatest people I know. I love hanging out with him, and growing up I felt like he understood me and what I was going through. He always seemed to have this sixth sense of when I was having a bad day, and I was usually pretty good at keeping my emotions well hidden through the day. However, whenever I got home and saw my dad it would only take one question from him to bring all those emotions straight to the surface. All he had to do was gently ask, "Are you doing alright?" I'm not sure if he was ever fully prepared for the onslaught of teenage emotions whenever he asked me that, but it truly meant a lot to me that he cared enough to ask me in the first place. My dad cares for his children, and I love him for that.
It wasn't only the questions he asked when he felt I was sad or going through a hard time, but it was also the questions he asked when I was acting up and being rude. I remember one time it was after dinner and he told me to go and get my shoes on, that he wanted me to go for a ride with him. Now, when I was a teenager more often than not when my dad told you he wanted you to go for a ride with him it was to have a stronger talk than what he usually gave. I was immediately nervous. I put on my shoes, all the while racking my brain trying to figure out what it was he was going to talk to me about, but I was pretty sure it had something to do with my attitude around the house lately. I mean, I was a young teenager and that in itself can make people snippy. The drive was long and quiet for a while. He didn't say anything; just drove into the dark night. I had no idea where we were going, and since we lived in the desert I had worked myself up to the point where I was beginning to see how easy it would be to drop me off on the side of the road somewhere and drive off without me. My mind was a whirlwind of activity, though no sound left my lips.
After about ten minutes (to me it felt like an eternity) my dad drove up to a McDonald's and ordered a twisted ice cream cone. He asked me what I wanted, and being so thrown off by the drive and the ice cream and how sure I was he was going to abandon me in the desert at night, I was confused. I told him I didn't want any, but he firmly told me to order something. So I got an ice cream cone, too. After that, he pulled into the parking lot and started to have a father-daughter talk with me about my attitude. I don't remember much of how the conversation went because I think I was so relieved that he really wasn't going to ditch me in the desert, not that he would have ever done that in the first place but, it's funny what sort of tricks our minds can play on us in scary situations.
Even though I don't remember the conversation, I remember that my father did not yell, he didn't belittle me and make me feel like a loser, but he calmly (but firmly) talked to me about what was going on and how I needed to make some changes. He did it in a way that both scared me and caused me great respect for him. He only ever had to do that once, because I made sure I never did anything to make him have to do that again. I also greatly appreciated the way he took me aside and talked to me personally instead of yelling at me in front of my brothers and sisters. I am a big advocate for pulling people aside and talking to them and I think it comes from my dad doing the same thing to me. It made quite the impression on me, and I know it couldn't have been easy for my dad to have to speak to one of his kids about behaving better. Thanks, dad, for being willing to talk to me in a way that would make a big impression. I love you!
No comments:
Post a Comment