Notes To My Father:

On April 14th, 1983, the eve of my Father's 55th birthday, I was a little distressed that I didn't have any money to buy him a birthday present. I had been a single working Mom for over 2 years and pretty much lived from paycheck to paycheck at this point.  My Father was a very special person and always there when I needed someone, it was important for me to let him know how I felt, so I decided to put my feelings into words... and that would be my gift to him. I wound up writing 3 papers that night, for as I'd finish one, I'd think of something else I wanted to say to him.

Dad passed on 6 years later and I've always felt so lucky that I'd been able to share my love and feelings for him. Mom thought I'd like to have the letters... she said Dad kept them folded in his wallet and would look at them from time to time; which explained the worn creases in the paper. I also noticed he'd handwritten on one letter "Kathy" and on another "By Kathy G." (G. for Gillespie... from my first marriage)... apparently wanting to make sure others would know who wrote them.

Since 1989 I've kept the papers in my wallet, not ever thinking about showing them to someone; for they were personal for my Father (Mom, of course had copied and shared them to some of the family years ago)... Last year I met someone who really adores her Father... I saw that she had the same kind of loving upbringing I'd had, so I shared the writings with her (she requested a copy of one). I then found myself sharing them with some friends and family and realized others should know what a great man my Father was.

So here are the writings...

To Dad…. With Love

How does a daughter

Even start to describe

Her feelings for her Father.

When the words in her head

Hardly reflect

The feelings she has inside.

Through your quiet gentle ways

Comes through your true masculinity.

Now that I’m grown

I have come to know

You are what most men pretend

To be, but aren’t.

You have all the qualities

That most men want

And all women like.

So men act the way

You actually are,

To woo a woman over to their side,

Hoping afterwards, she’ll stand beside them,

Despite their true identities.

I’ve always hoped to find a man

Like you, my father,

But whenever I thought

I have finally found him,

I found I was fooled instead.

I know in reality

There are some men

With your fine qualities,

But I also know

The numbers are few

And the world so big

The chances are slim

Of meeting one such as you.

But also knowing

That I can settle for no less,

I can live with the thought

That if I can not be

The wife of one of these men,

I am content and very proud

To be the daughter of one.

Hurting

Sometimes I think back

On the times I was punished

Sometimes, usually, well deserved

Sometimes, naught.

But it’s not the spanking or pain

I recall,

But the phrase…

(At which I used to laugh

Until I became a Mother)

“This will hurt me

More than it will hurt you.”

And of the Love and Comforting

That came afterwards.

I remember these things

Usually when I think

About the times I’ve hurt you,

Or 'spanked' you… in that special

Way I have.

And now I’ll tell you

A secret, of which

You may laugh,

It hurt me more

Than it hurt you.

Rocking With You

Whenever I’m lonely

And feeling blue

I think back on the moments

When I rocked with you.

As a child

No matter what

Was troubling me,

You were always

Able to comfort me;

Humming softly,

Or speaking gently,

‘Till I fell asleep

Rocking in the chair.