A pathetic, sniffly sight

I am not a crier. Anyone who knows me well, knows this. In fact, in a recent conversation, I couldn't recall the last time I had a good cry.

Well, that time was tonight when I finished this book. I broke down in huge, heaving sobs (trust me, it's as attractive as it sounds) when Randy started talking about his family - more specifically, his daughter. And let me tell you, I'm still feeling the effects of this chapter and fighting back the tears.

He noted that when his daughter was born he immediately became an official member of the "Wrapped Around My Daughter's Finger Club."

I've always liked to think that my dad was a member of the club, too. That there was just something special about being his daughter. Let me tell you from 24 years of experience, there is.

Growing up, I was always the girl with the cool dad. He was an athlete, a comedian, a motivator, a friend, a supporter, and he seemed to know everything about everything. Even now, he's still very much all of those things.

He's the reason I spend so much time single - no guys can even come close.

(It's just screaming daddy's girl, isn't it?)

For all these reasons, there's this soft spot for my father that I just can't explain. Reading Randy's description of the short relationship he's had with his daughter that's coming to an end, I can't help but get all weepy. Honestly, I don't know what I'd ever do without my dad.

It makes me hate living even this far from him - and makes me think that I should really visit home more often. Gets me to thinking about being a better daughter...I know I was a pain in the ass growing up, and I probably still am now. 

Thanks, dad, for putting up with my crap! It means more than you'll ever know.

How's that for a mushy start to your Monday?

Highly recommend The Last Lecture, if you haven't read it already.

Cheers!

-A