My First Hero

Having laid my mother to rest at the tender age of thirteen, the man who was my first hero became even more important to me. My father was not a large man, especially by today’s standards, but in my eyes he was a giant. Being the baby of the family, I was spoiled, and no one more than my father contributed to that spoiling.
I was probably close to eight before my dad ever had a morning cup of coffee that didn’t include toast crumbs and jelly from me. His lap was my haven and my refuge well into my forties. He was rich or famous, but he was a star and a hero to me. Hard working, he raised a family of six children during the depression and war years as a railroad man and later, going back to the way he was raised, as a farmer. Because my mom was ill a lot in my younger years, it was my dad who was always there at school functions and 4-H meetings for me and the other kids. Each of us was different, though much the same via rearing, and he treated us accordingly. He loved us all and we loved him.
The first time I heard this song I was living far from him and it made me homesick for his smile, and his lap. Then at Christmas 1993 he was diagnosed with cancer and by the following March he was gone. I flew home for the funeral. I only half heard what songs were to be played during the service as I tried to wrap my mind around the reality that he was gone. The service was touching with many tributes to the man that was loved by so many and I was hard pressed to control my tears, but then they played this song and my sister, who had requested it I learned later, along with me dissolved in tears. It was my father through and through.