To: Us, From: Him

Six years ago on the last Father's Day that I got to spend with my dad, my sister and I gave him a burnt CD and a new anchor for his boat. Though at the time they were gifts that we put moderate thought into, looking back now, I realize that the gifts we gave him were really gifts that he had given us our whole lives. He gave us music and he gave us an anchor.

From the day my sister and I were born, our dad surrounded us with music. Whether he shared it or played it or taught it, music was everywhere we were. When we were little, he recorded us singing our favorite songs while he accompanied us on his keyboard. Allison sang "You Are My Sunshine" though she was 3 and had a hard time pronouncing the word 'sunshine.' I sang "American Pie" because it was our song, and he taught me every line. As Allison and I got older, we started taking piano lessons too, and though we weren't very dedicated to practicing our lesson books, Dad helped us find sheet music for songs we actually wanted to learn to play. I still remember the right hand notes for the chorus of "My Heart Will Go On," and God help my poor family who had to hear me play it for the entire year I was in 6th grade. Eventually, I stopped taking lessons, but dad made sure the piano was still played. He played it while he waited patiently for my mom, sister, and I to get ready to go somewhere. He played it before church, before going out to dinner. He played it at birthdays and at Christmas and sometimes right before bed. He would sit down on the piano bench and play us his version of a lullaby, like he needed to get the music out of him before he could go to sleep.

The songs we sang together and shared with each other are so burned into me and into my heart. When I hear them now, in a store or on the radio, I catch myself looking for him to give him a little nudge with my elbow to say, "Hey dad, It's one of our songs!" The burned CD that we gave him on our last Father's Day together was filled with those songs. Our songs.

Our dad also gave us the gift of support, stability, and safety. He was our anchor. As a true fisherman and one who often took his two girls, secured in Minnie Mouse and Barbie life jackets, on the waters of Blue Dog Lake, we all understood the importance of a strong anchor. No matter what the wind or the current was like, a good anchor kept us where we wanted to be. It kept us grounded. Our dad was this figure in our lives, as strong summer storms shook our lake cabin, he promised us we would be safe. When scary things happened on the news, when mean girls teased me at recess, when money was tight, he was the anchor who reminded us that everything would be OK. He would keep us steady.

I no longer have to write a reminder on my June calendar to "Call Dad on Father's Day." I can't give my dad any more Father's Day gifts, but the gifts he has given me I'll carry with me always.