k reed

"I believe that what we become depends on what  our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren't trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom." 

- Umberto Eco

I remember standing on the edge of the roof of our house when I was a very little girl. My dad was standing just below me with his arms outstretched, telling me to jump. There was no fire, no emergency - just a warm summer evening and for a reason that is long forgotten I had been on the roof, probably with him. From that edge the distance from me to his arms seemed very far and very scary. I was afraid to jump. He prompted me again and I gathered my courage and jumped, never doubting that he would catch me. 

A few years later, at a July 1 celebration in his hometown of Hillspring Alberta I was lined up with all the kids my age to run a foot race. I wanted so badly to run and to win. The starter called "On your marks, get set....GO!" and someone pushed me hard from behind. I veritably exploded off my mark and ran my hardest. I don't remember if I placed (and if I had the start could have been called cheating) but all I knew was that my dad gave me the best start he could.

And that is the way it was all my life. My dad was my safe place - wise, strong, warm, loving - and he was the wind at my back - pushing, encouraging, teaching and when the occasion warranted, demanding. Demanding in the best way that I give my all. He taught me to strive for excellence - that if a thing was worth doing it was worth doing well. He told me that if I wanted something badly enough I could get it - and in my experience he has generally been right. He taught me to read, to play tennis (poorly but that was not his fault), to ride a horse, to weed the garden, to love God, to serve others. He whistled while he worked and loved to work. He had a song for every situation and a smile in his eyes for those he loved. He loved my mom and I knew it through and through. He taught me by his example to be a person of integrity and to live with honour.

I think I must have been a daddy's girl from my first breath. I know others have had and do have fathers as wonderful as mine but none has ever had better. To be told that I in any way am like my father is wonderful. He died long before I wish he had and when he did I thought I wasn't ready to be without him but although I miss him still I realize that I had been well prepared to walk on my own. I love this picture of the two of us - just a snap but when I see it I remember the safe warmth of his hug and love between us. From my earliest memory he called me his Pride and Joy ( being the loving father he was I am guessing he had four others) and I knew I was. I hope I am still. I feel very blessed to have had such a father, one who taught me well in all the odd moments with many little scraps of wisdom that I cherish always.