Daddy's Girl

Published by admin on Wed, 08/05/2015 - 

By: Lana Hamilton

When you lose someone you love, a part of you dies with him or her. But at the same time, I think those left behind gain a guardian angel. The heart has a special place for the love between a father and his daughter. I know this is true because when I lost my daddy that special place was heavy with sadness. However, ironically, at the same time I was at peace. Daddy knew he was special to me and I knew how he loved his little girl, who at 49 still held that distinction.

We had many years of wonderful memories. When I was little he included me in everything whether it be fun or work. I guess the work part is what I remember the most but it is with the utmost fondness that I do. To work with him, well he said it was like going on a family picnic. We worked hard but it was always a fun environment. During his (our) days in construction, my resume can state that I can put on shingles (much to my mother’s chagrin), work with drywall, hang vinyl siding, and paint walls and trim work. Sometimes I just had to be the gopher and I enjoyed that, too. He never told me I didn’t do it right and I’m sure if I did mess something up, he would just go behind me and fix it.

A couple of years ago he presented me with my drywall spatula complete with a label of the year and “Lana’s first drywall tool.” I was instrumental when he moved into furniture and cabinet making because I was the carrier. The spray room was set up in an enclosed narrow room at the back of the carport and whatever was being sprayed was carried in and out and placed on anything that didn’t move to dry. Thankfully that business expanded and the role of carrier diminished.

I even thought it was fun to clean out the work truck and wax it. Why was it fun? Because Daddy made sure it was. He would park under the shade tree in the back yard and we would talk, laugh and sometimes I would sing with the radio and before we knew it the job was done.

He lived a good life by being an example to others. That was evident as one by one, people filed through the funeral home telling of how he touched their lives. Not one person said anything negative nor have I ever heard anything negative about my dad. He enjoyed life and often told me there was good in everyone; sometimes you just have to look a little harder. I wish I could have just one ounce of the patience that he had. But I do always look for the good in people.

He taught me a lot and most things I can’t even tell you about, they are just ingrained in me. He was one of a kind. He often told me how proud he was of me. I guess I should have told him more often how proud I was of him and that I was blessed to have him as my daddy.

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