dad

Not every Father is a Dad..

My dad__ life was magnificent, but only if I let myself see and remember more than his years of decline.

It's rally bad when dads cry.

Daddy?_____ right here, baby.__umps form in my throat, going all the way down into the core of me.It__ his voice. His. Right there. I reach toward the doorknob but I don__ get to turn it.Nick smashes at me with his head, pushing against my lower jaw and cheek, like a blow. His muzzle moves my head away from the door. He presses his face in between me and the wood. Fur gets in my mouth. I spit it out and push at him.__hat__ my dad. My dad._ I slap the door. __e__ on the other side. The pixies will get him.__ick shows me his teeth.__ can__ lose him again, Nick.__he wolf snarls like he__ ready to bite. My head jerks back and away, but then I steady myself.__et . . . out . . . of . . . the . . . way.__ushing against his thick neck, I slam my hands against him over and over again, pummeling him. He doesn__ budge.__ove!_ I order. __ove.___ara, is there a wolf in there with you? Do not trust him,_ my dad__ voice says, calmly, really calmly.I grab a fistful of fur and freeze. All at once it hits me that something is not right. My dad would never be calm if I was in my bedroom with a wolf. He__ be stressed and screaming, breaking the door down, kicking it in like he did once when I was really little and had accidentally locked myself in the bathroom and couldn__ get the lock out of the bolt because it was so old. He__ kicked that door down, splintering the wood, clutching me to him. He__ kissed my forehead over and over again.____ never let anything happen to you, princess,_ he__ said. __ou__e my baby.__y dad would be kicking the door in. My dad would be saving me.__et me in,_ he says. __ara . . .__etting go of Nick, I stagger backward. My hands fly up to my mouth, covering it.Nick stops snarling at me and wags his fluffy tail.How would my dad know that it is a wolf in here and not a dog? How would he know that it isn__ pixies?I shudder. Nick pounds next to me, pressing his side against my legs. I drop my hands and plunge my fingers into his fur, burying them there, looking for something. Maybe comfort. Maybe warmth. Maybe strength. Maybe all three.

He touched the screen as if trying to reach through with his hand. "You're a wonderful young lady. I don't tell you that often enough. You remind me so much of your mother. She'd be proud. And Grandpa Tom" --he chuckled-- "he always said you'd be the most powerful voice in our family. You're going to outshine me some day, you know. They're going to remember me as Piper McLean's father, and that's the best legacy I can imagine.

I cannot imagine how much I must__e suffered in my previous lives to be fortunate enough to have parents like you in this life.

See!_ Dad yelled. __oys don__ stay with whores, Bianca. They leave them. And I__ not going to let you turn into a whore. Not my daughter. This is for your own good.__ looked up as he reached a hand down to grab my arm. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting to feel his fingers clamp around my forearm.But they never did.I heard a loud thud, and Dad grunted in pain. My eyes flew open. Wesley moved away from Dad, who was massaging his jaw with a shocked look on his face. __hy you little shithead!___re you all right?_ Wesley asked, kneeling in front of me.__id you just punch my dad?_ I couldn__ help but wonder if I was delirious. Had all of this really just happened? Totally bizarre.__es,_ Wesley admitted.__ow dare you touch me!_ Dad screamed, but he was having trouble balancing enough to approach us again. __ow dare you fuck my daughter, then hit me, you son of a bitch!____ never heard my father swear like that before.__ome on,_ Wesley said, helping me to my feet. __et__ get out of here. You__e coming with me._ He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close against his warm body, and ushered me out the open door.

Father has a strengthening character like the sun and mother has a soothing temper like the moon.

Parents expect only two things from their children, obedience in their childhood and respect in their adulthood.

Evan stares at me.I try to hug him. He takes a step back. I pause, my heart in my throat. I__e got to reach out to him, let myself be vulnerable. I find the courage, but he backs up again.__ou can__ go to Iraq anymore.___ know.__e looks up at Deanna, then back to me. __id you fight bad guys? You told me you weren__._ His voice is suspicious, full of accusation. He doesn__ trust me, and I don__ blame him for that.__o, Evan. I didn__ fight bad guys.__ can__ bring myself to tell him the complete truth. I want so desperately to go back into this fight. I miss it every day. I always felt I could change the world with a rifle in my hands and our flag on my shoulder.__id you get shot?_ he looks me over, apparently searching for bullet wounds.I grin a little. __o, Bud, I didn__ get shot.___eople get shot in Iraq.___es, they do._ It strikes me then that Evan for the first time has a grasp on the dangers that are faced over there. He__ six now, and the world is coming into focus for him.__eople get shot, Daddy. They die. Bad guys kill them.__ think of Edward Iwan and Sean Sims.__eah, I know they do, Evan.

It made a big difference in my life to grow up with a dad who wasn't afraid of how great my mom was.

He had been searching for it his entire life. He had devoted himself to poetry to find it. Now, in the middle of his life, he found it. It was in the face of the love of his life, his daughter. She who had never blushed before, now blushed. And in that blushing, he knew, was the existence of God. That was the day her father learned what God was. God was pure beauty, God was his daughter__ face when she blushed.

Father is Everyone's First Preceptor.Happy Father's Day!

That's such bullshit, Mythology repeated by parents because it lets them force their kids into sports and push them too hard by pretending that in the end it will pay off with the holy scholarship. You know how many kids get a free ride? Hardly any. Like, maybe fourteen.' -Finn (165)

He had won, easily. This was something else he could do, and do well, and his Dad had been there to witness his success.

In his imagination, he grabbed his dad by the throat and squeezed until an old mans face turned purple. No pleading, no begging, simply... nothing.

We all have days when we say that we are gown-ups, that we are mature, have a lot of experience and don't need advise from others.But it is our mom and dad we turn to when we're in trouble or can't find the answer to a question.

Honestly, I'd rather be anywhere else. Even home, where my dad begins almost every conversation with, "You should lose the black clothes and wear something with color." Puh-lease. Like I want to look like every Barbie clone in Hell High, a.k.a. Oklahoma's insignificant Haloway High School. Ironically, Dad doesn't appreciate the bright blue streaks in my originally blond/now-dyed-black hair. Go figure. That's color, right?