What a Strong Dad I Have

As we celebrate Father's Day 2018 , my mind is flooded with memories, past and present, with my dad. I've been trying to think of the very first memory I have of him. It's not the first summer vacation we headed to Texas listening to country music as he sang along to the radio or an afternoon spent picking gooseberries in the field across from church. It's not going to our first Major League baseball game to watch the Kansas City Royals or him bending down to kiss me goodbye on the couch on a school day as he left for work.  Although those are great memories, the earliest one I can remember would have to be when he carried me and my siblings, one at a time, to our car on a snowy morning. I remember waiting anxiously for him to come pick me up. I just couldn't wait until it was my turn. Mother was worried about us falling on our snow covered porch or the steps leading to the carport and there was no way she would allow that. I'm sure she said something about it being a "solid, sheet of ice". For those of you who know my mom, I know you're laughing right now.  What I remember about that particular memory is how protected I felt.  I loved when my dad carried me anywhere.  What little girl didn't feel like she was safe while in her daddy's arms.  I have no doubt my thoughts that day were WHAT A STRONG DADDY I HAVE.

As I grew older, I remember looking at pictures of our family at holidays, our yearly first day of school photos, the vacation pictures by the state signs (shoes were apparently optional) Mom and Dad's wedding photos and one particular picture of Dad in his Air Force uniform.  He was so young and handsome and strong. I remember wondering what he was like back then. Who were his friends? What did he do in the Air Force?  We weren't told much as kids about those years, but what I do remember is hearing how he hitchhiked from Oldfield, Missouri enroute to Little Rock Arkansas every weekend during his service.  Hitchhiking was a foreign concept to me.  I couldn't believe he would get into a car with a total stranger, but apparently that was life in the 60s. As his picture scrolled across the screen during our Veterans Day Assembly this year at school,  I pondered again what life was like for him so many years ago and I couldn't help but think WHAT A STRONG DADDY I HAVE.

The years passed quickly and the Applegate kids turned into young adults. I no longer referred to Dad as Daddy.  I decided years earlier  (I'm sure when I was a teenager) that Dad sounded more mature than Daddy so Dad it was.  I was 23 years old before I saw my dad cry. It was the day my grandma (his mother)  died. When Dad walked in the front door after she had passed away, I remember looking at him and realizing he had been crying.  We talked about Grandma for a few minutes and then the conversation turned to trivial topics.  I know he was trying to be strong for all of us.  I wasn't sure what to say, but I know I had to have thought, WHAT A STRONG DAD I HAVE.

Strength comes in many forms. Physical strength, like the protection a little girl feels when being carried to the car in her daddy's arms and mental strength when trusting total strangers to get you from Point A to Point B or emotional strength when fighting back the tears in front of your kids when your world has changed forever. Little did we know at the time, Dad's strength would be tested in every way possible many years later in ways we never dreamt.  Watching him now, no one could ever question WHAT A STRONG DAD I HAVE.

This Father's Day is different than the other 48 I've known. You see, this year, Dad is in a skilled nursing facility fighting a rare cancer after recently having his leg amputated.  Turns out, he's stronger than we ever thought. For me, I realized it months ago as the five of us were being told by the doctor at Barnes that the only option was amputation. As we listened to what he was saying and the shock settled in, Dad never lost his composure.  After telling Mother the decision was up to her and getting all three of his kid's opinions, he just said, "Let's do it". As I heard those three words, I fought back the tears, but Dad never shed a single one himself, and in my head I heard those familiar words. WHAT A STRONG DAD I HAVE. My sister called recently after going with him to his appointment with the "chemo" doctor.  During the visit, he was reminded of his circumstances and told he was too weak for regular chemo.  His only option was to take it in a pill form.  My sister told me how the rest of the appointment went, but the only words I remember her saying were, "He wants to fight. Most people would be giving up at this point, but he still wants to fight". And just like that the same words I had been thinking so often the past five months, as Dad has been dealing with the unimaginable, came back again. WHAT A STRONG DAD I HAVE.

So on this Father's Day, I'll reminisce a little more than usual and enjoy the memories more than ever. After all, he's the reason I enjoy country music today, why I still root for the Royals and why Veterans Day celebrations mean so much to me.  I never did learn to like Gooseberry pie though.  Every dad is special so treasure the memories you make with them.  I know I have. I believe Dad's strength has passed down to his children.  We take what is thrown at us and we deal with it the best we can. If I ever questioned where I got my strength from before, I will no longer, for it's clear to me now WHAT A STRONG DAD I HAVE.