So, I’m a dad. I’ve been a dad for almost three years now … not a crazy amount of time, but definitely enough time to find myself tearing up during the dance between the father of the bride and his daughter.
During Kathleen’s wedding I kept catching her dad stepping back. He’d step back to watch it all. It’s as if he was making sure to not miss it. He didn’t want to get so busy that he didn’t take in the moment. He’d watch his daughter throw her head back in laughter. He’d watch as she wiped a tear. He’d stand just far enough away to not take any attention off of her and Jacob. … And when he toasted her … it was all about her. Well, first he toasted his wife… but after that, it was all about Kathleen and Jacob and how incredible they were.
… And when they danced, he cried. He sang along to the song in her ear as if she were still in his arms before bed. He kissed her forehead and held her tight. He didn’t want to let the moment go before squeezing every bit out of it. He wasn’t too proud, too strong, too anything. He was a dad watching his baby girl’s next step. Not much different than her first. One more step away from dependence, but not love. He was in awe of her.