Shalom:
I love seeing pictures of fathers and daughters.
For me it is bitter sweet, for I missed that precious love affair that only a father and daughter share. Daddy is a little girl's first love and often he is the standard she measures her future husband to.
When I think about Muhammad Ali, I think of my step-father. Not just because my step-dad could pass for Mr. Ali's twin, but for the short time he was part of my life, he was really the only father I knew.
I still remember the last time we spoke on the phone. His asking forgiveness for the pain he caused me. Forgiveness I gave. I remember his growing interest in the Torah and wonder if he had indeed returned to his Hebrew roots.
I no longer remember the bad times with Dad, but the good. I remember his coming to school with me after being bullied and letting it be known this was going to stop. And for the rest of the year, it did.
Daddy isn't only a girl's first love, but her hero, her biggest cheerleader and the one she wants to be the proudest of her. I still remember Dad's hug and taking me out for a ice cream because I actually got a A on my math test. It made me work harder; not for the ice cream, but to keep seeing that smile.
My step-dad wasn't perfect. Hurting people hurt others. Sadly, my parents couldn't make their marriage work. But I know that my dad would approve of my choice of husband.
But most importantly, I am thankful for the brief time my step-dad was in my life, for the things he taught me. For the love he gave my sister and I, even though it was imperfect.
Maybe one day, I shall be able to tell him face to face.
I love seeing pictures of fathers and daughters.
I still remember the last time we spoke on the phone. His asking forgiveness for the pain he caused me. Forgiveness I gave. I remember his growing interest in the Torah and wonder if he had indeed returned to his Hebrew roots.
I no longer remember the bad times with Dad, but the good. I remember his coming to school with me after being bullied and letting it be known this was going to stop. And for the rest of the year, it did.
My step-dad wasn't perfect. Hurting people hurt others. Sadly, my parents couldn't make their marriage work. But I know that my dad would approve of my choice of husband.
But most importantly, I am thankful for the brief time my step-dad was in my life, for the things he taught me. For the love he gave my sister and I, even though it was imperfect.
Maybe one day, I shall be able to tell him face to face.
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