Daddy’s Girl

I was never a “daddy’s girl.” For the most part, my Dad and I weathered a rather stormy relationship during my childhood and teen years with some sporadic calm seasons and sunshine every now and again.  It’s been seven years since he passed away and as we approach Father’s Day, I reflect on the man whom I spent most of childhood at odds with, but ironically, whom I’ve learned the most from and am so much like today.

Daddy was a wonderful teacher.  He never passed up any opportunity to teach me something whether it was about life or academics.  A simple road trip became a math class since Daddy would randomly select cars and have me add up the numbers on their license plates.  I did not learn multiplication at school; I learned it at home at a very early age.  The ceilings in our bedrooms were divided into small squares and my task was to calculate the total number of squares without counting them individually.  At seven years old, this seemed almost impossible, but when daddy showed me how, I was amazed.  Storytelling was his forte.  “Every grin teeth is not a smile” or “Don’t take a candle to see by night what you can plainly see by day” are just a few of the colloquial Caribbean sayings that he used, to narrate the ironies of life and people.  His lectures and stories have stayed with me through the years and continue to teach me.  I’ve always said that most of the knowledge I have today, I can attribute it to my father. 

Daddy was full of creative ideas and possessed a magnificent talent for creating things with his hands.  That skill coupled with his incessant need to conserve money, he once made a toilet tank from galvanize when the one in his bathroom broke.  Peculiar as this may seem, his resourcefulness and creativity were aspects of him that I have always admired.  His sense of humor and comical candor were welcomed guests in our home and when they did show up, they always lifted our spirits and provided warm memories to recall. 

Daddy could never lie and when put in a situation where he felt he needed to; he always opted to plead the fifth. Most times, however, he was bluntly honest to the detriment of some of his relationships.  He was a praying man.  I never knew what he was praying for or why it took so long, but I fondly remember him in his room, on his knees every single morning – 30 minutes on weekdays, one hour on weekends.  He was far from perfect but said it perfectly when he daily reiterated “In everything you do, put God first” – words I have lived by.

On the flip side however, Daddy was prone to deviate between two extremes.  He was a strict disciplinarian.  Spank now, ask later: this was his approach to us as children when we went against him.  His mood was somewhat unpredictable and this made him unapproachable.  He was also a self-opinionated man and had a view on any and everything.  There was one rule of thumb for being on daddy’s good side:  don’t disagree with him and don’t cross him.  He was constantly seeking ways for me to improve myself.  I’m sure he had my best interest at heart but his form of inspiring me to improve was frequently through criticism.  Praises were few since his theory was that you learned more through constructive criticism. 

His fickle personality was a key cause of our rocky relationship.  It did not help, however, that I was not an angel, contrary to what some might believe.  I was willing to challenge anything and everything he said and I did (in retrospect, I guess the apple does not fall far from the tree).  From the age of seven to fourteen, I fought constantly with my father.  There were points in our relationship where he would enter a room and I would immediately leave, solely to avoid a confrontation.  We had our fair share of conflict.  I remember one Saturday morning packing my little bag to run away from home.  I made it as far as our street corner.  Fortunately I was always appeased by my mother and the strong loving relationship we shared.

As I grew older and consequently matured, so did our relationship.  I prayed for an understanding and appreciation of daddy and they came.  The more I understood him and why he was the way he was, the less I provoked him and the more I grew in love for him. Because of my growing spirituality, I became more the author of peace in our relationship.  I grew to respect his persona and our differences in nature and so was able to establish a very amicable relationship with him in my late teens to the time of his death.  

Since his passing, I’ve learned some valuable lessons that have allowed me to have a deeper appreciation for him.  I’ve learned that as children, we expect perfection from our parents and when we too become one, we realize how far from perfection we also are. We learn to do our best like they did, with what we know and with what we have and to leave the rest to God. I’ve learned that wounds heal with time, but fade away with wisdom and understanding. I’ve learned that the journey I took because of my dad, while bittersweet at times, has led me to a good place and I have become a strong, independent woman because of his leading.  I’ve learned that I am so much like him, something I would never admit as a teenager, but am proud to admit now.  I’ve learned that he loved me; in spite of his actions and because of his actions – he loved me. 

I was never a “daddy’s girl” growing up…..but I am now.

To those that have been blessed with the privilege of being a father, we at W2Wsoul would like to wish you a Happy Father’s Day! We pray that God will grant you the guidance and wisdom that you need, to become the father that He has called you to be.

Proverbs 22:6: “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.”

Ephesians 6:4: “And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.”

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