Lucky

As a teenager,

I never really experienced the stereotypical pubescent-angst stage. I don't recall ever being embarrassed by my family or preferring the company of my friends.

I love each of my friends dearly, but like a mother cub the primary recipients of my allegiance have been and always will be my family.

When the world is obnoxious and annoying, I avoid it. When my family is obnoxious and annoying, I have to suck it up and love them anyway. That's what is so great about the concept of a family. We can be utterly ludicrous or out-to-lunch and yet there are these people surrounding us who have no choice but to stand behind and catch us when we fall.

At least, that's been my experience with family. They are the people with whom I can be 100% Laura, without any fear of judgement, vendetta, or superficiality.

I'm aware that many people would render a far different definition than the one I have just proposed. Ironically, I guess definitions aren't always definite. Once in awhile they can be subjective.

I'm also fully aware of my luck. For anyone who knows or who can even remotely begin to understand the hell I've been through in the past little while, it might take you by surprise to see me referring to myself as lucky. But you know what? The definition of "father," or "daddy" (if you're me) can also be subjective.

So many people grow up without a father and are therefore incapable of even forming their own definition. So many people grow up with a father in the physical sense, but without him in the emotional sense.

I had the good fortune, the blessing, of 24 years with a playful, kind-hearted, giving, loving, affectionate, humble, intelligent, eloquent, hard-working, honest, loyal, trustworthy, devoted, genuine, strong, logical, courageous, healthy, multi-talented daddy who loved me right back as I loved him.

More than anything in this world I would love to have at least 50 more years with him, but that does not in any way diminish the time we did have. Nor do those 24 years ease the pain of what I'm experiencing right now. My cognizant reflection of our time-well-spent, however, does give me fresh perspective.

I am reminded that "they" do quite decidedly say: "quality over quantity."

Both would be nice, but my lack of quantity does not change the fact that I had the privilege of being fathered by a man of such incredible magnitude.