DADDY'S HAND AAE EF

“I want my daddy”

Some days I just wanted my daddy. The young handsome man who could change my flat tire, protect me, and called me "baby girl". For a time I refused to accept the transformed man I now protected and cared for. My heart would break every time he looked for his keys to go to a job that no longer existed, in a car sold long ago. The family learned to laugh instead of cry. I'd loved to share my journey to anyone traveling a caretakers path

Daddy used to think the front yard was the golf course, my  mother was the dining room cook, and I was the Country Club secretary. We just said, “yes sir boss”. My father’s dementia was an effort to deal with, some days his illness pushed me to the limits, but I learned to roll in his world when I started to imagine him out of mine.

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