I Get it From My Daddy

I was talking to my friend this morning and came to a realization of something that was long forgotten. One of our co-workers recently lost her mother and we were talking about how down she looks. I definitely understand how she is feeling. When my father passed, it felt like I would never be whole again because a very important piece of me was lost.

We were sharing stories of loss when I realized something that I can't believe I never thought of before. I get my love of writing from my father. He was a very creative person. He moved to Schenectady, New York in the late eighties and decided to go back to school and major in photography. Once that camera was in his hand, he turned into another person. He would take so many pictures when he visited that we would all start to complain. The finished product would always change our minds. He took some great pictures.

My father would also cut out photos of people he admired, research their lives and make photo albums. They were amazing. I learned a lot about our people looking through those books. I would always tease him because he was so militant, but it was actually one of the things I loved most about him. I would love to hear what he thinks about the state of the world we live in today.

His spirit was so creative. I am the writer I am today because his blood runs through my veins. He taught me so much. I stopped looking at his photo albums. It hurt too much. My dad was one of the smartest people I have ever met, but he had issues that kept him from realizing his potential. It's no big deal. We all have our stuff. I just seem to find myself wondering what if. Even though I know what he could have been, I am still extremely proud of the person he was.

Not a day goes by that I don't see something on the news, or debate a topic with someone, and wonder what my father would have to say. He was a Knick fan and I know he would be so upset to see what has become of the team. He would be livid. I can hear him screaming and see the look of disgust on his face. He took his sports very seriously. That's why i'm such a sport fanatic. We would stay on the phone for hours talking about the NFL, NBA, MLB, and any other initial we could think of.

I really miss my father. He's been gone for ten years. I feel his presence all the time. We still talk. The conversation may seem one-sided, but I know he's responding. He still helps me make life decisions. When i'm stuck at a crossroad and feel unsure, I wonder what my father would tell me. I try to figure out what his advice would be, or what decision would make him proud. I guess i'll always be a daddy's girl.

So, when people are shocked that a woman knows so much about sports, or someone is complimenting me on something I have written, I'll thank them and say, "I get it from my daddy."