dancing with daddy

*photo via my father-in-law

I'm 28 years old. and I still call him Daddy.  I'm pretty sure that after me, my Dad had more fun at the wedding than anyone!  He was everywhere all the time.  He was dancing!  He was snapping pictures!  He was drinking wine!  He was telling jokes!  He had a riot.   Our dance, however, must have been a sobering experience for him...because I was crying...a lot...and he was experiencing that bittersweet happiness that Father's feel when their daughters get married and move away from them.  He was so happy for us, but he was a lil heartbroken too.

We danced to "My Girl" by the Temptations...it was the perfect song because that's what my dad calls me...it was absolutely perfect.  

 
The Father/Daughter dance was the one time during the entire day that I lost it.  Like really lost it lost it.  Sobbing.  Red nose.  Wrinkled forehead.  The whole nine yards.  (I'm not posting those pictures....they exist...on Facebook no less...but not on my blog mmmmk?)  The reality that I was leaving my family, that I was moving, hit me in that moment.  28 years of hanging out with my dad was rolling through my mind.  Even as I type this lil tears fall down my cheek. 

So anyway, I dug my face into his neck, to shield my face from the 100 people staring...and to pull it together a lil bit.

Daddy to the rescue.

He's the funniest man alive...and he can make his girls laugh!!  So...this is exactly what he did.  He started talking...and making me laugh.  Like, REALLY making me laugh!

I love my Daddy-O.  It was a precious few moments that we had out there on the dance floor together.

I miss him...