Every Father’s Question

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


Every father’s question What happened? It was only a couple of weeks ago I was romping around with my babies, watching them come into this world. Those proud moments when they were born or were
mine , dragging them around in the crook of my arm, wiping spit up and slobber away (more for me than them), teaching them to walk, watching them attempt those first steps, and so proud when they
made more than 2 in a row. Teaching them to talk (praying they wouldn’t learn my “slips” and blurt it out in front of anyone). They did anyway. Getting their mom to translate what they were
gibbering about. Always excited when I got home from work or come home from a business trip. Always going in at night to check on them, watching them sleep and praying to God I was man enough to
protect them and provide for them. Heart swelling to bursting when they threw their arms around me and hugged me and saying “I love you, daddy”. And always meaning it when I told them “I love you
too, baby!”

Submitted: January 10, 2018

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Submitted: January 10, 2018

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Every father’s question


What happened? It was only a couple of weeks ago I was romping around with my babies, watching them come into this world. Those proud moments when they were born or were mine , dragging them around in the crook of my arm, wiping spit up and slobber away (more for me than them), teaching them to walk, watching them attempt those first steps, and so proud when they made more than 2 in a row. Teaching them to talk (praying they wouldn’t learn my “slips” and blurt it out in front of anyone). They did anyway. Getting their mom to translate what they were gibbering about. Always excited when I got home from work or come home from a business trip. Always going in at night to check on them, watching them sleep and praying to God I was man enough to protect them and provide for them. Heart swelling to bursting when they threw their arms around me and hugged me and saying “I love you, daddy”. And always meaning it when I told them “I love you too, baby!”


Preparing the string to pull the first tooth and dreading it because I know it is going to make by babies cry. I always hated when they cried. It was my job to take care of them so they didn’t have to cry. Kissing the booboos to ease the pain and holding them and rocking them so they knew everything was okay. Daddy was there. 
Teaching them right from wrong, never take anything that isn’t yours, don’t let people run over you, never start a fight but don’t run from one either. It is okay to fight for what is right. Protect the weak but frown on the lazy. Work hard for the things they wanted and always look to the future. Pray for strength or patience, whichever is befitting at the time, God will watch over you if you are true to Him.


Having to spank them for getting in the street when you have just run faster than you knew possible, trying to get to them before the car that was barreling down on them beat you to them, unimaginable relief when you outran the car that would have crushed the life from them. Instant anger when you realize they will live another day because God gave me the strength to get to them first. Spanking their little butts to reinforce the command “DON’T GET IN THE STREET” and crying afterwards in private and thanking God for answering your prayer.


Teaching them to fish and how to clean what you have caught, hunt and make a clean kill, never kill for the sake of killing, respect the firearm they are carrying, always be mindful of the direction you point it, all guns are always loaded. 
Teaching them drive a car (without running over me), how to operate the brakes so you don’t throw me and your sibling off the front of the truck when we are hunting. So proud when they get their driver’s license and can send them to the store for everything yet praying they remember their lessons when they have the car out alone. NEVER drink and drive. I will come get you if you get in trouble but neither of us is going to be happy about it.


Trying to understand when someone breaks their heart and wishing much suffering on the one that did the breaking. Holding them when they are truly in pain and scolding them if they are crying just to be crying even though inside, my heart was breaking for them.


Proud for them at all the sports they played or school activities they excelled at, even the ones they didn’t excel. 
Standing and looking at them without them knowing, feel the lump rise in my throat and knowing that I cherish them more than they will ever know but don’t cry, they may not understand that. Praying every night “God, don’t let me screw this up”.


It was just a few days ago I watched them going to proms, dances, etc. dressed so “grown up” and handsome or beautiful based on the one I was watching. Teaching my son to shave so he didn’t bleed to death or inflict more scars than were necessary. Mom would take care of the girls shaving needs but instruct them anyway to lessen the amount of blood running down a little girl’s leg, I always hated the sight of blood on my young’uns, and it was my job to keep them from bleeding.


Trying to teach them about cars so they knew when to change the oil, check the vehicle fluids, check the tires, how to change a flat. It was my job.


Tolerating them when they went through the rebellious age, understanding that, to them, I was dumber than a box of rocks. It was okay, I knew I would get smarter the older they got.


Watching them graduate from high school and knowing that the era was over, they were grown and would never need me as much as I needed them again. Going off to college or some other direction that takes them farther and farther from me.


Walking them down the aisle or standing witness as I gave them into another man’s trust or bring me another daughter to love. It is harder not to cry these days.


Watching them pick their respective career choices, doing whatever is necessary to insure their new family is safe and wants for nothing.


Going to the hospital to be there when they brought their own children into this world. Holding the new grandbaby and crying at the innocence of this fresh baby that came from the union of my child with someone else’s baby. Watching as my baby cries tears of joy at the new blessing God has given them.


Do they have the same doubts I had? Are they more confident than I was at what lies ahead? Does their heart swell as large as mine at the sight of their children? I am sure it does but they may be like me and not show it on the outside as much as I should.


What happened? It was only a few days ago that I held my babies in my arms. Did I do a good job, Lord? Thank you for helping us get them grown and answering my prayers.


I am sure every father has asked the same questions.

Dan Harry

(c) 8-06-17


© Copyright 2018 Daniel Harry. All rights reserved.

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