Thursday, January 28, 2010

Daddy's Daughter


I was always Daddy’s Dearest Daughter. Pampered. Indulged. Mollycoddled. Left to him, I would have been spoilt, but luckily for me, it was never left to him.
To him, I could do no wrong. I had always to be the best, and when I wasn’t, he never accepted the competition as fair.

I grew up, got married, made him a grandfather. But to him, I remained the little girl he would hoist on his shoulders.
He would get agitated when the kid next door cried- he thought it was his daughter in distress. Me, he hugged, but never really recognized.


In memory of the most wonderful father anyone could ever have.
I love you, Pops.

3 comments:

Patricia Stoltey said...

What a wonderful tribute to our fathers, some here, some gone, and some trapped somewhere in between.

My own father died of lung cancer when he was only 61. That was twenty-seven years ago, and I still miss him.

dipali said...

My father is so ill now. My heart breaks- he has been a source of strength over the years.

Rayna M. Iyer said...

@ Pat - I don't think we can ever stop missing our fathers. And the way you put it is really beautiful - some here, some gone, and some trapped somewhere in between.

@ dipali - I hope he gets better soon. And it is payback time - he's been your source of strength, now it's your time to be his. *hugs*

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