The man in his little girls' lives

I have heard that when my sister, Cindy, was born our father's words were "another little girl, just like Paula".  While we were different from the start (she's blonde, tall and willowy and I'm not), there is one thing that is exactly alike. Both of us always knew how important we were to our daddy.

He was the first and probably the best (with apologies to our boyfriends, husbands, sons and grandsons) "man in his little girls' lives" and I don't need to email or call Cindy to ask - I  know she is feeling the exact same thing I feel on this Father's Day in 2012.  I miss my daddy.

I still feel him in the room.  Most of the writing I do is in the same room where I watched on September 16, 2009 as daddy relaxed and as I have often said seemed to sort of waft out the window.  He had told my son that he was curious as to what Heaven would be like and that day, he was about to find out.

Most people think it was an adjustment for me when my parents moved in with me -  and it was.  However just after daddy had died, my cousin, Jeanne Collins, remarked that she thought it must have been hard on him - no longer being the responsible one when that had been his role for so many years.

I wish  I had been more sensitive to that.  I just thought "this is my house and I should be responsible - so there". 

Somehow I had been able to hide the fact that I have a temper from my father - for almost 60 years. Once we lived in the same house, I had nowhere to go when I was angry.  Daddy was shocked!

Being the good daddy that he was, he took it in and he tried, really tried, not to let it bother him or worse to reprimand me.  That did not always happen.  Toward the end of his life, he would say something like "short fuse" which only served to make me angrier.

When I think of those times, three years down the pike, I think "for crying out loud; why in the world did you let those little foxes spoil the vines?"  Maybe he didn't always understand me (and who always understands their children) but he was always "there" for us - from my mother to my siblings to our children and grandchildren.

Daddy was the epitome of the analogy in Scripture of God the Father's love and care for us being likened to the love a father has for his child.  One commentator described it as "the tender love as such is borne by the parent for his offspring; the disposition to care for its needs; the readiness to forgive when an offence has been committed."

That's a great definition of the kind of father Earl Huffingham was.

When my first marriage ended, daddy reassured me, comforted me, and helped me with the difficult decisions that had to be made.  For thirty years I have known that part of the reason my children adjusted as well as they did was that my parents were around to help.

That is also the position that my chidren's father would take.  He has often said that he is very grateful for my parents' involvement in our children's lives. I appreciate his attitude. 

Our children are grown now with children of their own.  And from my seat, it looks like all seven of my grandchildren feel just as secure in the love that their dads offer them as I always felt.


Which brings me back to my dad - who loved me when I was at my best - and when I was at my worst. And who always made my sister and me glad that he was the "first man in his little girls' lives".

Cindy, daddy, Paula at Cindy's daughter, Leslie's wedding to Jason Beck (May, 2008)