My Dad was killed in a car accident six days before my 20th Birthday.  At the ripe old age of 19, I had learned the hard way how to plan a funeral.  Mom and Dad were on their way back from Penn State Main Campus in State College, PA when Mom skidded on ice and the car ran right into a light standard.  They were 10 minutes from home when the accident occurred. Dad was killed instantly.  Mom survived her injuries, but the road to recovery was long. 

For my 20th Birthday, I took over my Dad's business; he owned a general contracting company and I had 15 men under my employ.  I am proud to say I am my Father's Daughter...I have his will; his determination;  and his work ethic. Work hard, be honest, and give the boss a good day's work for a good day's pay.  Soon, the men who worked for my Dad began to respect and admire me for my intestinal fortitude.  Eventually, I did sell his business to a man who Dad trusted and referred work to when Dad's calendar was full.

I remember when I was growing up, Dad worked alot, but still found time to take us on Sunday drives....or to the drive-in movies.  He was involved with us in school, Girl Scouts, the band (he was our drill instructor).  He was a man of few words.  He taught me better than a Minister the true meaning of being a Christian.  Dad ate those horrible cakes and pizzas from the Easy-bake oven,  endured countless Barbie fashion shows, and never complained.

Dad never hit us.  He'd make us do chores and play our instruments as punishment.  My chore was to iron his cotton shirts with 3-point military crease in the front and the double crease in the back. I am VERY proud to tell you, I can iron a shirt that'll cut you and will make any officer smile.

The last Christmas Dad was alive, he waited outside in the cold to greet me as I came home from working the night shift at the Hospital.  "Merry Christmas, baby, I love you". I never heard my father ever say those words to me before.

While Mom was recuperating I'd spend as much time with her as I could before I had to go to work.  I remember one day, in rehab she was resting in bed after a long and torturous time in physical therapy. As we watched TV, turning her head to me and quietly said, "Your Father and I never worried about you. He knew you'd be the only one who'd make anything out of themselves.  That's why Daddy was so hard on you sometimes."  In that very moment, I never loved my Dad as much as I did then.

As I've done since I can remember, I work very hard to make my Dad proud.  But I know now it's not so very hard at all. 

I had my Dad for almost 20 years..more than some can say.  I revered and feared my Father, and love him to this day.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.  I love you!