We use these words all the time – two words that some people don’t use enough – and some people use too often.
I so vividly remember a time from when I was younger. When I was about 8, my mother took my sisters and I to visit a man in our village, he was nearly dying, and didn’t have any relatives. As we left, the man took his hand out of his pocket and presented us all with a pound, and as we took it, we said thank you and wished him well. He turned to my mum and ‘your daughters are so polite; thank you is not said enough’. That was the last I remember of him, and I believe the last time we saw him – but from then on, I have tried to remember to say thank you, for everything, and because I am sincerely, genuinely thankful.
One team I have so much to be thankful for, and to say thank you to – is my parents.
My mother and father are a match made in heaven, both love people and both love the world. My parents strive for peace, healing and happiness, and they deserve medals beyond what one can imagine in this world.
My father has worked every day that I have been around, until a couple of years ago this year, and my mother has been our teacher from day one throughout home education and she has taught us about family life, about being the best team, and being a great leader.
Through trials, family situations, big decisions, life changing moments, and hard times, my parents have demonstrated what a brilliant team resembles – the ability to remain calm, see the bigger picture and rest in the knowledge that actually God has got it all in control and we can relax in his security.
With it being Father’s Day, I would like to focus on my father but I am also going to take this moment to just interject that my mother is as much to blame for my brilliance as my father!!
My father, where to start?
He makes the worst, and the best dad jokes, he makes up the most original graces for lunch time and you will talk to him for a full 48 hours and realise that you’ve only got one answer to a question – probably that he is like a parking ticket, he’s fine – and you’ve done all the talking over the 48 hours.
He has minutes, hours, days to listen to your problems, excitements and to recount stories of his hunting days. My father can be a man of little words, mainly if you’re talking about something that he doesn’t know about or knows that you actually just want to talk at someone.
At a supper party, he is the one with his mouth shut most of the time, and looking impeccably smart, and with the most outrageous eyebrows – honestly they go further out than his equally large, Smith nose.
My father has been said to look a bit like Prince Charles, if only Prince William came with that claim. He has had an upbringing in Yorkshire but remains to be a full, very competent and in fact, rather excellent Scottish Dancer – setting the bar high for any other man I am to be paired up with.
My father will listen to your trials, questions, queries, rants, cries, and laughs. He will be there when you want to slap someone, and he will be there when all you want to do is dance around the room – and he joins in.
From a very young age, I have had the upmost respect for my father, for all that he does for our family and for all the love he has for my mother. He is the backbone to our family and we would quite honestly be lost without him.
You can be assigned to one parent, for some reason these days, and I believe that I am wholehearted a daddy’s girl.
I have the same interests in horses, I have the same interests in family traditions and the hunting world, and I have the same interest in mucking with everything that you can get your hands on – saying ‘yes’ to all invites, and being happy to be the butt of the jokes.
A friend said a couple of weekends ago, whom I was lucky enough to see in a rather fleeting visit to Edinburgh, that at her mother’s 60th birthday party, my parents were rather late to the party, and that it was, in fact, a huge relief. As much as she loved her mother’s friends, she was in search of some light relief when my parents arrived. Smiley, happy and great banter ensued, I was informed.
My father is always game for a good laugh, he likes to know what’s going on, and to take the mick out of every situation – sure he knows when life is meant to be serious but he sure as anything knows when life should be taken with a pinch of salt.
As you can see, I am not lacking in things to say about my father – so I should stop before I start rambling, so to sign off I would like to say the following:
My dearest father, my dearest pop. Thank you. Thank you for everything you have ever done, in thought and deed. Thank you for always being there when I need you, come rain or shine. Thank you for dragging me to endless reeling parties at a young age, thank you for writing to me every week since I left home, thank you for calling for a regular catch up – especially when it’s about 2 hours long. Thank you for being prepared to drive me to hunt meets when I’m scared about my horse not travelling well, for being able to tell me that I shouldn’t be doing something, for helping me make, what I can now see have been, the best decisions of my life, for being the best person to confide in, for being always ahead of the game, for being the worst dad joke maker, for enabling me to continue my addiction to horses, for supporting me through thick and thin, for sticking by when I’ve been in a fight with my sisters (– equally, obvs!), for encouraging me, for laughing at me, for making our home a home, for loving me unconditionally, for being top of the range.
Any other man wanting to come into my life has got some seriously big shoes to try and get close to.
I love you – you’re the best friend anyone could ever have. Thanks for marrying Mummy and making a family. I’m here because of your excellent marriage.
And thank you God for giving me the best parents, and family ever.
Words cannot express how thankful I actually am.