“Because if I myself saw my worth, I wouldn’t base my worthiness on someone else’s seeing it.” ~Unknown
I can’t be sure which title I would have preferred. Daddy, Poppa, Pa, Dad. Aren’t these the endearing titles one earns when they live up to all that it means in the role of the first and most important man in a little girl’s life?
She can count on this person for love, comfort, safety and guidance. She loves. She’s a tomboy at heart, so he teaches her to play baseball and soccer. She can put on makeup or have tea parties at a table that is too small for him. The one who tells the best bedtime tales that make her feel safe from the boogeyman hiding under her mattress.
She is the one who sets standards when she finds her love.
They are truly special.
On the other hand, mine, not so much. We can call him a sperm-donor. Fitting since it’s the only role he’s played in my life. When one walks out on his wife and two little girls, the older, age three and the younger, age one (that’s me), offering no support, financial,…
