Father’s Day 2024
As I danced around my kitchen this morning, I teed up a Spotify Father’s Day collection.
The artists ran the gamut: Lennon, The Temptations, James Brown, Beyoncé.
And the titles ranged from “Papa Was a Rolling Stone,” to “Butterfly Kisses,” to “My Old Man,” and “Just Fishin.’”
This is our 14th Father’s Day without my dad, but really, it’s about my 57th.
We only know what we know.
My daddy left when I was in pigtails. If it’s true that we only know what we know, then you know I don’t miss what I didn’t have. I had plenty. But what or who was missing — I didn’t know to miss them. My mom, sisters, grandparents, and a town full of friends and cousins with handsome father figures and role models more than made up for what wasn’t at my house.
For Father’s Days, I’m sure I made him cards and sent him drug store Old Spice sets and tennis balls and such, but Father’s Day for us was…well, it wasn’t a thing.
This morning, as I heard Holly Dunn’s country classic, “Daddy’s Hands” with her strong vocals and catchy lyrics, I was reminded of the love in Daddy’s hands.
But this was a different kind of love.
And despite its pitch-perfection, my tune differs from Holly’s.
I remember daddy's hands folded silently in prayer
And reachin' out to hold me, when I had a nightmare
You could read quite a story in the callous' and lines
Years of work and worry had left their mark behindI remember daddy's hands how they held my mama tight
And patted my back for something done right
There are things that I'd forgotten that I loved about the man
But I'll always remember the love in daddy's handsDaddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin'
Daddy's hands were hard as steel when I'd done wrong
Daddy's hands weren't always gentle but I've come to understand
There was always love in daddy's handsI remember daddy's hands workin' 'til they bled
Sacrificed unselfishly just to keep us all fed
If I could do things over, I'd live my life again
And never take for granted the love in daddy's hands
The love in my Daddy’s hands was, without question, delivered. We heard the stories all our lives. Tales of stitches, surgeries, sutures… diagnoses and delicate Dr. Wood care. It wasn’t the love Holly sang about.
But I suspect it was what he knew.
And those hands. They worked magic in the OR. They took great care in the examining room. They worked hand-in-hand with his brilliant mind to dispense love and healing to thousands.
The first time my husband saw this classic black and white of Daddy — these two men in my life who never knew one another — he instantly remarked that Daddy and I have the same hands.
It wasn’t something I had forgotten as Holly sang; it was something I never knew.
But I’ll hold onto it.
Happy Father’s Day, Daddy.
🥰
Oh, Courtney -- what a graceful story. I can imagine you and your sisters safely enveloped by a caring community of family and friends, and I can envision your mother taking the high road as she moved forward. What a treasure, this discovery! Your hands, too, in tandem with your brilliant mind, dispense love and healing to thousands. A wonderful trait to inherit.