Wedding Bells are Clanking

My eldest child, my twenty-three year old, beautiful, sweet daughter, just got engaged this past week. It had to happen eventually, but I’m still having trouble wrapping my mind around the thought of her getting married (too bad I can’t just sit on it; I’d be sure to get around it then). She’s had a boyfriend or two in the past, but they came and went, as I secretly (and often openly) hoped they would. Now here’s one who, despite my considerable size and the tacit threat of bodily injury, has seemingly run the gauntlet and was brave enough to ask for her hand in marriage. I’m starting to think this might be serious.

I found out I was going to be a dad when I was twenty-seven. To say that I was not ready for parenthood would be the same as to declare I was unfit as a nursing mother (forget the obvious; there’s also the hair, the hair…). I can honestly say I had given little thought to ever becoming a father; most who knew me then would say I was only marginally able to care for myself. Over the following months, I was swept away by the tide of pregnancy:  changes in my wife (still beautiful), in my home (women definitely prepare the nest in anticipation of a child), and in income after my wife was confined to bed rest because of pre-eclampsia all occurred and I was powerless to affect any of them. I was overwhelmed and still unprepared for fatherhood by the time my wife was admitted to the hospital.

Because of the pre-eclampsia, the doctors induced labor and some time later determined  that our baby was becoming stressed; they would have to perform a caesarean section. During the surgery, the doctor giggled and said he nicked our baby’s head with his scalpel, and it was then that the paternal impulse first kicked in: How’s about I nick your junk with that scalpel? He assured me that everything was fine, and asked if he could please have his scalpel back to finish up the operation.

When he finally lifted up our beautiful baby, I thought he might have nicked more than its head, as my son was clearly missing his defining parts (we didn’t know the gender beforehand; I assumed, being ridiculously manly, that I carried only the male chromosome). A girl! No matter; to me, one need look no further for proof of the living God: I was instantly transformed from Ignorant, Ill-Prepared Potential Father to Ignorant, Ill-prepared, Hopelessly in Love Father. I know now that this is how you truly become a parent, and anything you might do by way of preparation is meaningless by comparison: God instills in you a love for your child, exceeded only by His own. When you act on their behalf, using that love to guide you, how can you fail?

I guarantee that I am not the world’s best dad, but I know there is only one Father who loves His children more. Fortunately for my daughter, she has the world’s greatest mom.  By her mom’s hard work and unwavering devotion to her children, along with God’s help and through His provision, my baby girl is now a beautiful, accomplished, smart, funny and sweet young lady. I could not be more proud of her; when people compliment me for the good job I’ve done (happens all the time), I accept it readily, though I really don’t deserve it. I can only lay claim to loving her as much as I am able to love, and a will to protect her until my dying breath. Sometimes I envy people who can buy whatever they want, but thanks to God, who entrusted the care of her and our other children to us, it’s easy to remember we have wealth beyond compare.

This young man who has asked for my daughter’s hand (I wish she had three; he could take one and we’d keep the rest of her) is a good, decent person. He is one of my son’s best friends and my boy loves him dearly. He is no stranger to hard work, has many talents and I have no doubt that he will do all that he can to provide for my daughter and their family, whenever that happens (immaculate conception, anyone?). He asked for my permission to marry her – twice, which I appreciate (why didn’t he listen to me, then?). Most importantly, though, is that he makes her happy. My reticence crumbles in the face of her joy. I suppose the best gift I can give her is to be happy as well (that’s all they’re getting). I’m working on it.

My daughter has been doing an internship at a hospital out-of-state since August. It’s been hard not seeing her whenever I want. I miss her. I never really considered that someday my children would live somewhere away from my wife and me. I thought ideally that she might start her work life back here in Tucson. Now she’ll be married soon, and careers, marriage and life could take them anywhere. I’ve always hated change, but I hope soon God will show me the good things that will come of it: their successes, a home of their own, perhaps a grandson named Richard for me (it’s a dying name, like Bernice, or Myrtle. Maybe for good reason).

I know I have to come to grips with this, and realize I’m not losing a daughter so much as gaining a son. So, in closing I say the following to my daughter’s fiance, who I cheerfully accept as her future husband and embrace (figuratively) as my eventual son in law:

To you I present that which is most precious to me. Though she is not mine to give, she has chosen you, and secure in the knowledge that God is involved, that is enough for me. He has blessed you with a gift that few, if any, deserve; nurture her, care for her, love her with all your heart, and protect her with your life if necessary. Do these things, and I will love you as a son. Do them not, and I will snap your spine and pummel your scrawny body into a whimpering, unrecognizable bloody pulp.

About Thestrugglershandbook

I'm a middle aged (if I live to be 100) guy, married, father of three, from Tucson, AZ. I'll write about almost anything. Though somewhat bent, what I write is always true(ish). It won't change your life, however. Unless that would preclude you from reading...
This entry was posted in Children, Christianity, Family, Humor, Marriage, Religion and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

16 Responses to Wedding Bells are Clanking

  1. Carol Brandon says:

    Richard! You never cease to amaze me with your talent for writing. What a beautiful tribute to the two lovebirds!! I was truly moved by it! Especially the last paragraph! You are too freaking hilarious!!

  2. I’ve just stumbled across your blog, and I am in stitches laughing. You remind me so much of my husband, it is as if I’m reading 20-something years into the future (especially because he assures me we’re going to have a boy first). The last part made me tear up. I can tell you are a good father 🙂

  3. This kind of choked me up. It was so raw and honest. Your daughter is lucky to have you as a dad. May God bless and keep your family and I hope the best for the future newlyweds.

  4. Joyce de vivre says:

    Rich, I’m teary-eyed. You say exactly as my father did nine months ago when I got married last March 2011. Before I walked down the aisle,I would constantly whisper to him that, ”Papa,don’t cry,okay?I’m just getting married,I’ll still visit you.I love you..” but when the first night I’m not home,I really cried a lot and I told my husband if we can go home that day after.Haha!funny but it’s not also easy for daughters too to be far from the first man in their lives – (you)and the rest of Dads out there. And my father asked me to name our first child after him (which I’ll gladly do soon) 🙂 For loving fathers such as you,this is never easy and I’m sure your daughter is very thankful that you are her dad. Extend my best wishes to her and I know God will bring out the best for your family.God bless 🙂

    • Rich Peddy says:

      Thank you, Joyce. I remember you mentioning someone in your blog asking if you were pregnant, and you said “I wish.” That really touched me; if that’s what you want, I will pray for it! As for the walk up the aisle, I bet I cry too. I’m glad I’m not the only softie out there!

  5. Uncle Scott says:

    Staaaaawp it Richie! Your making me cry. I just realized that I too could be in this situation at any time. Dude,,, you are one heck of a writer, I think you missed your calling. I’ts not everyone that can make me cry without punching me. Keep up the good work.

  6. Josie says:

    So touching and beautiful…made me cry. Richard, you have a real gift for writing plus I hate to admit it, but many other talents as well.
    Yep, I must admit, as your wife’s parents, we warned her about going out with you but, must admit she saw a diamond in the rough and you won us over. And by the way, your wife was one of the most beautiful babies we have ever seen….of course I’m sure that must be because she resembles our side of the family.

  7. Very nice. Takes a serious amount of talent to make one want to laugh and cry simultaneously. Girls, I’ve found stay close even after they’re married, at least mine did. Nice writing.

  8. haley bargery says:

    I loved reading your blog post, Mr. Richard. You were always such a wonderful example of a fellow dad who truly pours love out to all of his children. I have the funniest memory of you in my head (I have recounted it for years) that confirmed with me long ago (I must have been what…11?) what an amazing dad you are! We were watching the Patriot (You all were the first to introduce me to this movie….and i still love it) and the scene where the little girl says “Papa” for the first time came on. Just as the little girl began to speak, you immediately welled up. I knew then, that despite your massively tall, manly frame, you are a big softy when it comes to your kids.

    Needless to say, that moment made an impression on me. Every time I watch that movie I always remember sitting in your brightly colored living room with all of you. Maybe that is immensely silly, but it’s the truth. haha.

    Love you and your family so much (even after all this time) and am so happy for Hannah!! I can’t believe she is engaged. Hope you are all doing well!!!

  9. This is wonderful..and I wish her all the happiness in the world. It’s so difficult watching them grow up.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s