My first superman....

If my husband is my heart, then it's fair to say that my father is my carotid artery -- as his influence in my life has had the largest impact on how I think, feel, and see the world and people around me. In my mind, my father symbolizes everything that is good, right, and wholesome in the world and no matter how hard I will ever try, I don't think that I'll ever measure up to being as good of a person as he is.

Early on in life, my father drilled two things in his kid's minds: 1) To always treat people the way that we wanted to be treated and 2) "To always put the shoe on the other foot" which was meant to be the foundation of compassion, empathy, and understanding, all virtues that he wanted us to extend to other people. In me these lessons came to fruition in various ways -- as a teen and young adult I often found myself cursing people out when I felt as if they were treating others unjustly. But as an adult, these principals continue to guide everything from the career that I pursued, to the jobs that I have taken (even the bad ones), to the friends that I choose to hold close to me.

So what makes my father SO remarkable?

My father is the type of person who literally would give his last dime, last drip of sweat, last once of energy, or last breath for his family or a friend. But this isn't what makes him remarkable...it just makes him freaking AWESOME.

What really makes him remarkable is that my father didn't become this way from the example that he saw in his father - but it was a conscious decision that he made -- to be the BEST father and person that he could be - despite the example he saw in his father.

Now don't get me wrong, from what I knew of Grandpa Johnny, he was an okay father - one who I'm sure did the best with what he had and with what he knew. Nevertheless, of the things that I do know about him, I know that my grandfather was detached, unemotional, and lacked the ability to provide an emotional and nurturing environment for my father -- which led to him moving from Mississippi when he was 19 to live with his mother.

But you would never know this by meeting my father. He has acted as a stand-in father for more friends, neighbors, and cousins than I can reasonably recall. He has co-signed for more cars for people than Donald Trump -- even when he drove a broke down, rusted Ford Aerostar.

When I was a little girl I would drive with my father in his brown Dodge RAM as he went to complete carpentry jobs. My favorite memories are of when we would turn wide corners and he would yell "Hold On Kirt!" and I would hold on to his big muscle-man arms so I wouldn't be tossed across the front of the van. Even as a much older adult, this idea of my father as my superman, the one I can hold on to when things get shaky, or rough, or uncertain has never really faded away. He always has been and always will be my superman.

After overcoming a close call with lung cancer, beating death with a traumatic brain injury, and dodging a scare with colon cancer I know that once he gets to heaven the angels will give him the nickname "Clark Kent."

Love You Daddy,

The Little One