The Dance

“The hardest thing about being a father,” my husband told me, “was letting go. Turning her loose, knowing she would make mistakes, but also knowing that she had to make her own mistakes in order to grow.”

I was asking my husband, Clyde, and our daughter, Carrie Wren, about their memories as father and daughter, and their thoughts on that relationship. The first thing Carrie told me: “I remember riding through Dobson in the truck with Dad, when I was around fifteen, and he started talking about dating. Dad said, ‘If anybody ever hurts you, I will squish them like a tin can.’ And I thought, Okay! Dad’s got me.”

Carrie went on to relate that her friend, “K,” has never had any relationship with her father and has expressed grief and yearning for the father she never had. Carrie’s friend has told her that she never experienced what Carrie has always known as a daughter, that “Someone has her back, no matter what.”

No doubt our readers fall into one of two camps: either you have lived under the umbrella of a father’s protection. Or your father was never a part of your life in any good way.

As I continued to quiz Clyde and Carrie, time spent together became a repeated theme. Here’s an example: When Carrie turned twelve, and the father-daughter relationship had grown some thorns, Clyde enrolled them in scuba diving class. Scuba became a bond between them all through her teenage years. For Clyde, it was really about spending time with his daughter. Carrie admitted, “I didn’t get that as a teenager; I just thought it was a cool thing to do. I would have valued that time together more if I had understood how precious it was.” 

Both said that they now regret not having seized every opportunity to spend time together during those formative years. And yet they recall finding mutual activities. There were many hikes through the woods. Countless hours spent fishing. They remember teaching each other dance steps in the living room and then twirling on the dance floor at Jubilee Junction in North Wilkesboro. 

In truth, the father-child relationship can be something of a dance—two steps forward, one back. Most parents wonder whether they’re getting it right. And most, if they’re honest, feel some remorse at having stepped on their children’s toes as they stumbled through parenthood.  As Clyde told Carrie, “We grew up together; we’ve both grown and evolved.” 

Listen to the words of my friend, Janice Frye, that illustrate this point: “My dad talked to my sister and me about things he wanted to say a few hours before he died. We talked about precious memories and our future without him… Later that evening, after my sister left, Dad shared that he wanted to apologize to me as he wished he had a book from Dr. Spock on child rearing when I was born. As I was the oldest, he said my mom and he were unable to give me what I needed emotionally; he realized I needed more than they knew how to provide. He went on to say he was better equipped when my sister came along five years later. I told Dad this was the best gift he could give me as he was helping old wounds heal that the little girl within me had felt for many years.” 

Even a father’s advice can be a form of protection. “Measure twice; cut once.” “Make sure you’re saving for retirement.” “Take your foot off the gas and coast to the stop sign.” Some advice can seem annoying at the time, or even humorous; when we know it was given with good intentions, however, a fathers’ advice can be a treasure.

Let’s listen in on more of the last conversation between my friend Janice and her father. She told me, “We also talked about how I had been a widow for seventeen years and I knew his cancer was progressing, and how I would be sad if I ever remarried, and my husband would not get to know him and what a wonderful person he is. Dad said, ‘Well, I might know him already, but if not, I would like to give you some advice, not because I am wise, but because I am experienced.’ He went on to tell me if I did remarry it would be important to find someone who would listen to and talk to me, along with holding my hand. In my later years, he said, this would provide me with a happy life.”

Janice continued, “A few hours later, on April 14, 2013, my dad passed away. I am still comforted by these beautiful words we exchanged on his final night. I did remarry nine years after Dad died. I married a former high school friend and cherish our conversations and moments we hold hands as my dad advised.”

My friend, Gay, said this about her father: “As a little girl, I would see my daddy talking while he was on the tractor working in the fields. As I grew to understand, I realized he was praying, which taught me to pray without ceasing. I was never afraid when Daddy was near; he always made me feel safe. If ever I got hurt, I wanted my daddy.”

Are you a father currently in the middle of the parenthood dance and feel as if you keep tripping over your own feet? You know, if all things are done out of respect for the person your child is, with a desire to connect with them, both now and in the future, you won’t blow it. Keep dancing. Show your child that you have their back, no matter what.

Are you a daughter or son feeling a bit teary-eyed, as I am right now, thinking about your own father, remembering all he taught you, reminiscing about good times together? Rest in gratitude for the memories, or if your father is still living, call him up and tell him, “Thank you!”

And what if you are one who yearns for the father you never had? That’s a tough one. All I have to offer is the belief, from my seventy years of experience, that we’re here for a purpose. And that purpose is to do whatever we can to make sure all is well with the people around us. Even if we never received that blessing from our own fathers. And do it, no matter what.