Girl with Red Bucket

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The Vegas odds were against me.  There was much talk on the street of which I was not aware.

Would I leave a trail of salty tears and blubbering goo, akin to slug slime, down the center aisle of the church,  only to melt down at the altar and leave a crumpled pile of Joseph A. Bank black wool?

My only daughter got married this weekend.  It was a difficult time leading up to this event.  I kept having thoughts and memories of how I held her in the hospital the day she was born and could not let her go, how I had an overwhelming feeling of pride, joy, and happiness.  There was also a twinge of utter terror at the prospect of raising a daughter and being clueless of the responsibility of having another life dependent on me.

I was lucky.  Evidently my wife was a young girl and a teenage girl (a short time ago) and she was able to help me out with some of the girly stuff.  Funny, with a daughter, it seemed like I needed that help all the time.

I found out it is a difficult time for a father as he prepares to give away his daughter, especially his only daughter.  My emotions were so fragile that I felt like a teen age girl.

I thought about her as a child, seeing my wife pull the van in the driveway with her and I could barely see the top of her blond locks.  My wife would have her dressed so neatly to send her off to school and she would come home looking like she had been riding a Brahma bull in a whirlwind.

I remember one day dressing her for the day when my wife was gone.  My wife returned only to find that I had put her dress on backwards.  My daughter didn’t seem to mind.  My daughter was a cross between a tomboy and a Disney princess.  She loved to wear dresses but also liked to play sports and climb trees and roll around in the grass and dirt.  So I would let her wear dresses and then have her put sweat pants on under the dress.  I did not like all of the neighborhood seeing her underwear.  Of course my wife thought that I had departed for Crazy Town.

Fathers do many stupid things when it comes to their relationship with their daughters.  My wife says that is why they make so many comedies about fathers and daughters and the fathers usually are looking so foolish….art imitates life.

I could fill pages on pages with thoughts of my daughter and experiences with her and what each of them have meant to me but none of you would ever understand my relationship with my daughter. This is okay because I would not understand your relationship with your child either.  I just hope it is as special as mine as been with my daughter and son.

I took this picture of my daughter on a family vacation in Panama City Beach when she was about four years old and it has always been one of my favorites.

By the way, I defied the odds and never shed a tear during the wedding.  I was a rock, only because my daughter was so happy.  However, I about lost it when I gave her a kiss good-bye as she left the reception for her honeymoon.  I know my daughter’s husband (those words seem strange to write) will take good care of her and that is all a father could ask of his son-in-law.

After twenty-five years, I finally had to let her go.  Now I am crying, but the betting windows have closed.

If you like this photo, you can see more of my photos here.

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About knod56

Amateurish photographer who wishes he were better at taking pictures.
This entry was posted in Beach, children, memories, Ocean, Travel and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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