The Best Thing A Father Can Do For His Children

When I was 16, I wrote this quote in my journal…

The best thing a father can do for his children is love their mother. -John Wooden

(My father and mother back in their dancing days.)

At that time, I didn’t know why those words were special enough to write down, but now I do. You see, my father has accomplished that very thing on my behalf.

He walks his talk and loves my feisty mama like no one else I know and I admire him for it. He is devoted to her, I mean, DEVOTED.

Sure, they’ve had their ups and downs, but thanks to my father, my mother has the freedom to let her guard down and be herself in their relationship…

He makes her mad.
He makes her laugh.
He listens to her, cooks with her,
dedicates music to her,
serves as a teacher for her.
He’s home with her or out with her.
He wears cologne (to bed).
He’s after her. Alllll the time.
He doesn’t tease her for not getting the joke.
He doesn’t expect her body not to change.
He never says anything against her, even when he’s mad at her.
He always apologizes.
He makes things right.
He accepts her for everything she is, flaws and all.
She is simply first.

A girl who witnesses that growing up…tell me how she wouldn’t understand how a woman should be loved and want that same experience?

A boy who witnesses that growing up…tell me how he couldn’t learn to treat his woman the same way?

My Dad approached my mother the way Ruth approached her mother in law…where she went he went, her people became his people, his God became her God.

He chose the doorway for living life with her and knew once he stepped through it, his work wasn’t over. It would take effort to keep that pathway clear of rocks and other things that could hinder him and his mate from walking it together and happy.

My mom’s first slice of pizza after getting married at 18…

That butterfly necklace my mom wore to church…

The diamond pendant on a subtle gold chain…

The 15-year anniversary band with the crown of diamonds to represent her as his crowned jewel, the one he left on her night stand with a note before he left for work…

The over-sized Smiley Face pajama shirt my mom opened at Christmas that said “Girlfriend” on it because that was his knickname for her…

The two-page greeting cards my mom gets for every holiday with a signature at the end, “Love, Don” (because the card says it all)…

Yeah, I’m proud to say that all of that was my Dad.

Did he ever worry about spoiling her too much? Never. His gifts only got better and more thoughtful and funnier through the years.

Daddy’s Grown Up Girl

The bond with my Dad began when I was 17. Somehow, I understood that he didn’t always know how to relate to his little girl. He knew how to provide for her, take her to church with the rest of the family, and introduce her to things like…Grease, Saturday Night Fever, Tejano music, Conway Twitty, the Spanish version of Linda Ronstadt, Sound of Music, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, and The Duke.

He also knew how to offer good words of wisdom. One of the best and most simplest has been “Be yourself.” And he means it. I have never known my father to be anyone else but himself.

True Story

Before I married, my mother and I accompanied my Dad to the Cowboys Golf Club where he was paired up with three men for 18 holes. My father went to play; my mother and I went to schmooze and gossip so we drove separate golf carts.

The game began and I was following my Dad to the next hole while the other players trailed behind me and my mom. We turned left to go downhill, then to the right, but then my Dad suddenly parked to the left on the grass. I hit my breaks and the tires started screeching. Imagine the look on me and my mother’s faces as we thought we’d surely plow into the back of my Dad’s cart. Luckily, we didn’t.

Once safe, I thought, “Oh God, those other guys must be thinking, “WHY did that man bring THOSE women…” My dad gave me a dirty look and shook his head as he walked off with his clubs. I put my head down and began laughing uncontrollably with my mother, shoulders shaking and all.

Once I had the chance, I said, “Dad, I’m sorry. Did I embarrass you back there?” He replied, “NO. You embarrassed yourself.”

I still laugh at that memory but also learned something from my Dad that day based on his response…

What others do is a reflection on them, not you. Be your own person and don’t let the actions of others, good or bad, affect who you are or how you see yourself.

I’m pretty reserved like my Dad, but consider this a very public display of affection toward the man who named me after a singer who, to this day, reminds you that you’ve got to be REAL.

Happy Fawsher’s Day, Dad.


Leave Your Own Comment.

Off-topic or inappropriate comments will be edited or deleted. Email addresses will never be published. Thanks.