Daddy’s Little Girl
On my wedding day, my daddy took me down the aisle and gave my hand to my husband. My heart forever held on to him.
My entire life, my daddy wore many hats. He was protector, provider, supporter and advisor; the wrestler of a “4 Girl Tag Team”, Santa’s helper (who stayed up all night assembling toys), our “Family” doctor for removing splinters and trimming nails, Chex Party Mix maker, popcorn popper, turkey and stuffing roaster, a horseback ride to bed, car mechanic and handyman -who always lived up to the battle cry, “Daddy can fix it!” -broken toys, appliances, cars or hearts. We truly believed that with all of ours.
I am the youngest of 4 girls. No boys for my dad. He said he was never disappointed at the words, “It’s a girl.” I believe him. Growing up, I was at his side, working on cars, changing oil brake pads, and setting the timing. I handed him tools when he worked on cars or house projects. When he mowed the lawn, I carried wheel barrels full of grass clippings over the hill. Afterwards, we’d watch golf in the family room or play in the pool. He nicknamed me Sam. I was his son.
We moved to Missouri, where my dad hired employees for a new Westinghouse plant. In Jefferson City, it was known as “My Dad’s Plant.” Friends would ask me, “Can you get me a job at your dad’s plant?” Everyone knew my dad. He ran for public office, sat on nearly every board formed, and built sets for the local Little Theater. But Westinghouse was his life. He worked there for almost 40 years.
There’s a debate whether the McGrath girls bleed Westinghouse Blue or Black and Gold. My dad loved the Pittsburgh Steelers, a passion he passed to us girls. I grew up watching Terry Bradshaw take the Steelers to four Super Bowls with my dad. Lynn Swann, John Stallworth, Franco Harris, L.C. Greenwood, Mean Joe Greene, Rocky Blieir. His favorite-Jack Lambert. He called him “The Animal”. He loved them when they won and when they lost. He was a good sport. A fair man. Loyal.
Of all the lessons I learned from my daddy, the one that has always stayed with me is, “No one ever said life was going to be fair“. As a child, that didn’t bring much comfort. As an adult, I realize truer words have never been said. Still, my dad always worked to make our lives better than his. Once, when I struggled in the TV News industry, my dad tried to get me a job at the Westinghouse where he worked. He even went looking for apartments for me. When I visited my parents for Christmas, he showed it to me. I was so touched.
He later told me that he had failed us girls. Completely at a loss, I asked how. He said that because he never let us see him fail. I was a full-grown adult, and my dear sweet dad was still taking responsibility for my frailties. What a heart full of love.
In 1990, that heart suffered an attack, lost 40% of its muscle, and a downward spiral began. The doctors told us that he needed a new heart, but he was too old to get one. It looked bleak. They underestimated my father.
Four years later, my dad walked me down the aisle. He proudly gave away his “Baby.” At the reception, that dear man had picked out a song for our dance: “Daddy’s Little Girl.” He sang every word of it in my ear. Best day of my life with the best men in my life.
While Daddy never failed, hearts do. He had tent after the stent procedures more than 20 in all. He’d have more heart attacks. He’d have two strokes. He’d go to rehab and fight his way back. A few weeks shy of his 75th birthday, the fight ended. Nobody ever said life was going to be fair.
At the hospital, the priest came to give him Last Rites. He didn’t speak English well. He asked me to read the passage from the bible. In part, it read:
Matthew 11:27
“All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.”
When I finished reading, my daddy took my hand and told the priest, “This is my son.” The priest questioned him, struggling with his English and trying to understand. My daddy said again, “This is my son.” I was his son, helper, and apprentice in many ways. In my heart, I am always Daddy’s Little Girl.
He is forever in mine. By his example, he taught me how to live with dignity, integrity, and grace- and by those same qualities, he taught me how to die. He never gave up, or in-or quit. He fulfilled the verses in
2 Timothy 4: 7, 8,
“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge will award to me on that day-and not only to me, but to all those who have longed for his appearing.”
Happy birthday, Daddy. I will love and miss you always, but you are never far away. I use your tools to fix things around my house and carry the lessons you taught me wherever I go. You fought the good fight and now have your reward. Well done, good and faithful servant!
IT'S A HARnDen LIFE... 