I'll Always Be Her Dad

The Endurance of a Father's Love

Right now, almost everything

I own is in storage, including all our old photos.

Today I wanted to show you one of those pictures. But it would take me hours to drive to the storage unit and get the photo, if I could even find it.

It’s a picture of my husband Eric at the wheel of his turquoise metal-flake 1971 Volkswagen Thing in the driveway of our first house in Florida. Kiki is maybe two years old, strapped into her car seat on the passenger side. The top is down, and they’ve just rolled in from a cruise along the beach. I’m hearing the noisy VW engine and “Fighting Fist” by Hi-Standard cranked on the stereo. They’re both laughing and singing. She’d just learned how to pump her fist in the air, and it was a good day. There were a lot of good days for those two.

I invited a guest writer – Kiki’s dad, Eric – on board for this Father’s Day issue.

I’ll Always Be Her Dad

by Eric Hedin

I came late to fatherhood

Tina and I married young and planned to be a fun, childless couple. For thirteen years, our dog met any nurturing needs. Then our dog died, leaving us despondent and ready to take the plunge. We soon had a pool fence, a stroller, and everything else we were told a baby might want.

Following Kiki’s birth, I spray-painted a huge “It’s A Girl!” banner on a bedsheet, hung it outside our house, and bought a box of cigars. I felt a crushing wave of love and responsibility. I quit smoking, got life insurance, wrote a will and leased a new Ford Explorer. I was a 39 year old man with a newborn.

Being older provided certain advantages. I was more patient, I had sowed my wild oats, financially we were good. The early days are kind of a blur, but I know I was very hands-on and excelled at diapers and the burrito wrap swaddle.

There were skeptics. A friend told me I was too selfish to be a good father, a sibling was concerned because we “didn’t even like kids” but I was too besotted with my baby to take any note.

Starting that first year

Keek and I would drive to the beach in my VW Thing convertible which, when she could talk, she christened “the Funny Car.” One of her earliest phrases was “Mommy, Daddy, Daddy’s Car,” listing off her family members.

I always had a job where I could come home for lunch, we had dinner together every night and did lots of traveling together. We had so many inside jokes, our own language really.

Keek was excited about every holiday, and celebrated any and all occasions. Father’s Day was a big deal, and early on I would get a homemade card, a handmade gift, and we would do something special together. Even into her teens and twenties she made a fuss.

At twenty, Keek wanted

to learn how to tow her own travel trailer. We talked about taking a trip together, just the two of us, but it had to be long enough for her to get some good experience. We decided to head to Colorado from New Hampshire, and by day two she was a cool RV pro, towing that rig at 65 mph down the highway without a care in the world.

At the summit of the Manitou Incline

We climbed the Manitou Incline in Manitou Springs, Colorado, rode the Maid of the Mist at Niagara Falls, and had countless hours to talk. It was such a good time we vowed to do it again. Then, 18 months ago, Keek went to a restaurant, had an allergic reaction, and died five days later. I am grateful every day that we took that trip.

Last Father’s Day was my first

without my daughter.  I anticipated the day with dread, not knowing how I would fare. I ended up  going on a long hike, talking to her the whole time, looking for and interpreting signs.

Later that day Tina and I went on a hike together, and while we rested at the summit, a young man rode up on a motorcycle and asked me if I was a father. I hesitated, then said yes. He wished me a Happy Father’s Day. He must have wondered why I was crying.

This year is my second Father’s Day without Keek. I don’t dread it. I welcome the feelings that I know will wash over me. I am going on a hike, with a friend who also lost his daughter. We will prop each other up.⁜

Partners in Crime

Babies Love This Song:

Fighting Fists, Angry Soul By High Standard

An update from Tina:

We’re now at our summer trailer compound on our friend’s farm in New Hampshire. We’ll be here for ten weeks, which will go too fast, and then we’ll get back on the road.

Everyone here is saying it’s one of the most beautiful Junes ever, lush and sunny.

Evening After Haying, at the Farm

A few days ago, I got my heart zapped with electricity (on purpose) and now I am excited to be free of the debilitating arrhythmias that have ruled my life for the past 15 years.

I imagined, while I was in the hospital, that Kiki might visit me in a dream. Of course no one dreams under anesthesia, do they? Still, I cried when they woke me, disappointed I hadn’t seen her. But it was only a wish I made up, something to look forward to.

I do look forward to sending you these letters, and hope you will leave a comment. I will always answer, and your comments are of value to other readers as well as me. Thanks for joining me here in Turkey Town.

Love,

Tina