My Daddy Moved Mountains

My Daddy died today.

He was a great man; not merely a good man, but a man of substance.
My Daddy married, stayed married for fifty two years, and raised seven children: three girls and four boys. From this brood came forth three PhD's, a Human Resource Manager, a Teacher/Principal and owner of a private school, one MBA/Computer Business Owner, and a Certified Chartered Accountant. In Daddy's world there was no room for laziness or lack of ambition. He despised "sloven behaviour" and frowned heavily on sleeping during daylight hours.

My Daddy was a serious man who had a sense of humour. Ironic? No; he knew that life was no joke, and that laughter encouraged easy communication with his children. Daddy told fascinating stories about "Boggey Men" and giants to his young children, but also stuffed us with BBC news, Geography books and a deep respect for self, siblings, family and God. We knew we had to do well at school. Always. It wasn't just about the fear of being called a dunce, it was also about not disappointing Daddy; Daddy who worked so hard to feed and clothe his brood.

My Daddy was proud of me! And he told me so, very often. He was proud of the others too, but I am his little girl, so I relished his joy at my accomplishments. Daddy's praise was worth more than a new dress or a pretty doll. It made me beam and blush and tingle all over. My heart rate actually increased from his approval. I love my Daddy and am thrilled to have had him for almost all of fifty years.

Daddy walked me down the aisle; gave me Piggy Back rides; played table tennis and billiards with me; taught me how to play cricket under the house. I watched Daddy tottering from side to side as he returned from the fish market, bags laden with bargains to provide nourishment for his children.  On the back steps he cleaned those fish, while educating us about the differences between carite and cavali, and the uses for shark and bonito. He sometimes brought "Fry Dry": small bait-sized fish which the fishermen threw into his bags as bonus. We were expected to crunch through those "soft" bones as he did, and not spit anything out, but I managed to hide mine and dispose of them secretly.

Daddy loved my Mommy. He was not a gusher, but a conservative husband, who brought home Women's Day magazines, and pastry on his return from work. No birthday or anniversary went without celebration, gift or card. My Daddy was a classy man. Although he lost his dad at the age of nine, he grew into a fine man, and a powerful role model. Tonight I salute my Dad for his life well lived, and for all the mountains he moved in honour of his wife and children!!