I Remember Daddy's Hands

There are so many memories and moments that I remember with my dad. Too many to put down here or else you guys would be reading a Hawthorne novel. But I'd like to share with you a man that means so much in my life...
My entire family is incredibly close, which this day and age is a rare commodity. Even with all of my brothers starting their own families and moving to different states, or even just different cities in one state, we all manage to keep in touch with both each other and our parents. Mom mainly is the "ambassador" for our parents, dad just kinda staying in the background. Though, we always know he's there...literally, we ALWAYS know he's there, the man is so loud! My brothers told me that they were at an away game for either soccer or football (I think football, because I think that was the only sport both Jimmy and Eric were on the same team) and without even needing to turn around, one leaned over to the other and mumbled, "Dad's here," having heard him above all the other voices in the crowd. When we call the house, mom doesn't even need to put him on the phone...we just have conversations with him through her because we can hear him perfectly through the receiver. Even if we aren't talking to him, he's always singing or going on about something nonsensical (yes, that's my word).
Growing up was slightly different, as far as I'm concerned. He would always go to my brothers' sports and such, but I wasn't in sports, so I didn't have the number one fan they did. Not to say he wasn't rooting for me in everything I did. Dad worked a lot, and there were literally times that I didn't see him, either because he was working an odd schedule or he would get home from work and have to go practically straight to bed because he had to get up at the butt-crack of dawn.
I remember one memory, burning bright in the back of my mind, though. It was winter, I'm not sure how old I was, but pretty young. I hadn't seen him very much it seemed to me because of his work schedule. But he had gone out hunting one night and it was right after we had had a really good snow. My brothers, mom, and I were all in the living room watching TV when we heard dad's boots stomping in the back porch, announcing his arrival. Normally, after coming in from hunting, he'd unload at the back door, go to his room and get out of his hunting clothes, then usually lie down or maybe come to the living room to watch TV, depending on the day and how late it was. Well, this time, after getting the snow off his boots, he appeared at the living room door and said he wanted to show us something. My brothers didn't really want to go out in the cold at night, so I was the only one that went. I hurried to dress warmly, then ran downstairs and dad and I headed back out into the night. The snow had a crust on it that crunched under our boots. It was dark out, but there was a full moon (or at least a really bright one) out that night, so we didn't even use a flashlight. We didn't talk. Dad led me down the path that went to, at the time, a cornfield down by the river. We came out of the woods into the open field and I took in the sight...the field was completely untouched, no footprints, no animals, nothing. But because the snow had the crust and the moon was so bright, it was a field of diamonds! It was absolutely breathtaking. Every turn of the head and shift of the eye had millions of little sparkles shining everywhere! We stood there for a little bit, then decided it was getting too late and too cold so we headed back. I remember telling my dad on the way back, "I'm glad my brothers didn't come, that it was just you and me. We haven't done a lot of stuff together lately."
Other things about dad...
-I remember him taking us fishing at the trout pond near Graves' Mountain Lodge.
-I always help him butcher deer (when he gets one). I used to dance with them...yeah, kinda morbid, I know.
-He taught me how to drive. Mom helped, too, but dad gave me the tricks for dangerous conditions.
-Occasionally he'd read to me at night if I asked him. There was a big book of bedtime stories for every night of the year. I think originally it was my oldest brothers, but we were all read to from it. On the cover was a picture of a scarecrow leaning against a tree, reading to little woodland creatures and fireflies. He'd point to each image, asking what the animal was. He'd get to the back of the book (the picture wrapped around) where there were three fireflies and the other side of the tree. He'd point to each one and we'd say, "Lightbug. Lightbug. Lightbug. Tree." Then it was bedtime.
-He taught me how to shoot his .22 rifle. I'm pretty good. I was better than him at one point!
-Alan Sherman, Dr. Demento, Ray Stevens...enough said...
-We grew up not knowing the real words to songs, because dad always made up his own!
Oh, there are so many things I could put on here, but I've gotten a bit long-winded as it is. Long story short...Dad is a major part of who I am today. There were tough times, sure...like when I had JUST finished cleaning the entire living room and literally just sat down when dad walked in and thought I was watching TV and grounded me from TV for a week and I was so mad! Or when Chris was in charge while mom and dad were gone and Eric and I didn't listen to him, so dad woke us up when he got home and heard the news and punished us right there and then. But there were more good times to outweigh them. And it all just taught me the love he had for my brothers and me. Happy Father's Day, daddy!