The first love of my life ...

I know that every daughter loves her father. I would never assume to love my dad more than my sister does, nor more than any other daughter in the world loves her father. But my dad truly amazes me. He gives, and gives, and gives. And just when you think he's done, he gives some more.

My dad had to put up with a heck of a lot of crazy antics when it came to rearing me in Michigan. For those of you who knew me at all as a child, a pre-teen, a teenager, a young adult, an adult ... wait, I'm not sure I like where that was going... well, you know what I'm talking about.

I've never been the one to take the easy road. I didn't like to take my parents' advice as much as I liked to learn things the hard way. Of course, I didn't realize that's what I was doing at the time. My Dad dealt with the phone calls gracefully, and if he dreaded the ringing of the telephone, he never showed it.

"Dad, I wrecked the car."
"Dad, I've got a flat tire."
"Dad, I wrecked the other car."
"Dad, my car's making a weird noise."
"Dad, what kind of tires should I buy?"

When I moved away after college, if the phone stopped ringing for any substantial length of time, my mother would tell him to get in the car. She wanted him to "look at me" and make sure I was OK. Usually, this sixth sense of hers was on the mark. And he never questioned it, he just packed up the car and came for a visit.

Four grandchildren later -- his four angels, as he calls them -- the man is still a force to be reckoned with. He's tough as nails when he wants to be, but gladly turns into a puddle of goo when my son or one of my nieces calls his name. And family is everything to him. When my mother needs to spend weeks and months away from him to take care of my grandmother, he sacrifices to make that happen. He's there for her with just a phone call, even though he'd rather they not spend that time apart.

I'm 38 now, and my 66-year-old father is still a major guiding force in my life. And he still gets a few of those calls every now again, since my husband is admittedly not a handyman.

But I know that whether I call him to ask about motor oil or just to tell him I'm thinking of him, he'll be there.

I love you, Dad.