Where I’m From, We Call Our Fathers Daddy

This is a re-run of a post I wrote about my Daddy. Happy Father’s Day to every Daddy out there. You are irreplaceable.

Where I’m from, we call our fathers “Daddy.”

It’s not unusual to see 60-year-old cowboys, complete with the hat, the cattle and the big belt buckle, addressing their 80-year-old fathers as “Daddy.” It’s just the way we talk.

My Daddy was what pundits condescendingly refer to as “blue collar” or “working class.” What that means is that he was a highly skilled person who could pull an engine out of a car, take it apart, rebuild it like new, put it back in the car, test drive the car to see if all was right and still be home in time for eight hours sleep before he had to get up for work the next day.

The men I grew up around never worried about being man enough. The very notion of worrying about a thing like that was as foreign to them as worrying about being American or Oklahoman enough. They worked hard as mechanics, truck drivers, machinists, butchers and carpenters. Then they came home and put in gardens and maintained their houses. No one in my neighborhood would have considered calling a plumber, roofer or any other handyman to repair their homes. If the plumbing was broke (things were never “broken”; they were “broke”) they fixed it. If the roof leaked, they would get together with the rest of the boys from thereabouts and put on a new one.

My Daddy thought nothing of  getting together with my uncle and putting up a wall, complete with texture and paint, in one day. They could turn around and take it down the same way. They built their own garages, added rooms to their houses and dug their own tornado shelters.

Not one of the men I knew as a child would consider raising a hand to a woman. A man who would hit a woman was a coward, not a man, a nothing, in their eyes. Any man stupid enough to do a thing like that was very likely to have the other men thereabouts take them out some night and “knock some sense into him.”

It never entered my mind to be afraid of anything when I was little. Whatever bad was out there, I believed my daddy would make sure it never touched me. I can not remember a time when he didn’t seem as big and safe as a fort.

I also can’t remember the first time he lifted me astride a horse. I do remember sitting behind him on his horse as we rode for hours. I was maybe four or so when he got me my first horse, a gentle fellow named Shorty.

Owning a horse meant I had to learn to brush him down before saddling him, then brush him down again after the ride. I had to make sure he had water, hay and grain and that his hooves were free of rocks and other things that might harm him. I was responsible for soft-soaping my saddle and bridle, for cleaning the bits.

I didn’t know how to do all this at four, but I learned how from my daddy who taught me by doing it with me. He also taught me to never let the horse get the best of me by getting angry with the animal, jerking him around or failing to get back up and get on when I was tossed off.

He had a contempt that he imparted to me for the kind of man who would get panicky on a horse and then take it out on the horse by yanking the bits, yelling at the animal or digging his heels into the horse’s sides.

Shorty was a kindly horse with a lot of patience for little girls but not a lot of gas in his tank. As I grew from a tiny girl into a little girl, I became increasingly impatient with his lack of go. One day when I was about seven I decided I wanted to see if I could get a rise out of him.

I saddled up and climbed on Shorty, armed with a water pistol. I rode him for a while, then stood in the stirrups, leaned forward, and squirted. Sweet, gentle Shorty broke in half. I managed to ride it out, but I certainly did get a rise out of him. It was more than I bargained for, but it was fun. I finally got Shorty quieted and looked around to see my daddy standing across the lot, staring at me.

The word we use today is “busted.” I had been caught red-handed, abusing my horse. I had no idea what Daddy was going to do, but I expected something massive. What he did instead was much more effective.

“Becky Ann, you know better than that.” he said. That was all. He didn’t yell or threaten. He didn’t even ground me from riding; just, “you know better than that.” But it was enough. I have never abused an animal again.

Years before that, when I was a pre-schooler, I stole a pack of chewing gum from a store and got caught. Daddy didn’t yell at me. He took me back to the store and made me hand the gum to the clerk and say “I stole this.” That was a long time ago, but I can still feel the humiliation of that moment. Then, to add insult to injury, he bought the gum and gave it to me.

Another lesson learned. The temptation to steal left me that day and has never returned.

Daddy was teaching more than how to ride and care for a horse, more even than not to steal. He was teaching me a whole set of values. He was also, though neither of us was aware of it, teaching me about men. There wasn’t a plan in this. I feel confident that my daddy never read a single book on how to raise kids. He didn’t make dates to “have a talk” with me or attempt to manipulate me. He just talked to me as part of our daily interactions. Like I was a person. He spent time with me. That’s how he caught me with the stolen gum, how he saw me shoot water into Shorty’s ear; he was there.

Woody Allen has said that 90% of life is showing up. I think that more than 90% of being a father is being there. You don’t have to ride horses with your kids or break down engines to be a good dad, but you do need to be there. Share the one thing that is completely yours with your children: Share yourself. Teach them about men by being a safe and reliable man in their lives. Give them the gift of security by always being the dad on the beat, ready to protect and rescue them when they need it.

My father had a lot of faults. But he was there and he loved me without question. He used to embarrass me, bragging on me to people, but I realize now that having your very own Daddy think you are the greatest thing since sliced bread is loft to your wings for your whole life. Children, boys or girls, it doesn’t matter, need their Daddys. They need them home, with their Mamas, taking care of things.

My Daddy was there. And he loved me unconditionally. I’ve never read a child-rearing advice book that just plainly said that this is what children need, but it IS what children need. Nothing else will substitute.

  • http://hiddeninjesus.wordpress.com Jessica

    I wish I’d had a daddy like that. He was there all right but from I was three or younger, he was the kind of man daddies are supposed to protect their daughters from.

    I loved him anyway.

    • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

      Jessica, my sister married a man who was, as you say, “the kind of man daddies are supposed to protect their daughters from.”

      After reading your blog, I can only say that you are a remarkable person, an example of the love of your true Father, who is in heaven.

  • http://hiddeninjesus.wordpress.com Jessica

    Those in the Bible belt took to calling their fathers “Daddy” because Jesus said, “Don’t call anyone on earth ‘Father’ [pater], because you have only one Father, the one in heaven.” Matthew 23:9

    • Ossian

      In fact, the actual word used by Jesus in what we term the Lord’s Prayer was abba, an Aramaic form but appearing in close forms in Hebrew and Arabic as well, and it is correctly translated as Daddy. It’s a very intimate usage, a departure from the high formal titles used in Hebrew prayers, like malek ha-olum, king of the world etc. I suspect Daddy is a variant of the Proto-Celtic dagda, a father god. Celtic languages were common in the South after the Highland Clearings and the Irish “troubles.”

      • TotaliterAliter

        Actually, despite the popular belief that “Abba” is used to denote a close term of endearment, it’s not. “Abba, Father” is actually the Aramaic vocative that’s used to put distance between the prayer and God. By adding the extra “Abba” to just “Father”, Christ and the Apostles were creating a greater distance gap between themselves and God. This is much akin to the Old Testament’s usage of “Lord God,” which is more formal than just “Lord” or “God.” On that note, as well, the Hebrew word for Lord (as in God), “Adonai” is actually a plural form of “Adon,” which means lord. It was made plural to create distance between the speaker and the God.

      • suburbanbanshee

        “Daddy = recorded from c.1500, but probably much older, from child’s speech, nearly universal and probably prehistoric (cf. Welsh tad, Ir. daid, Czech, L., Gk. tata, Lith. tete, Skt. tatah all of the same meaning).” Yup, etymonline is your friend. And as you can see in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, “dad” and “daddy” are typical old-fashioned expressions in English and Welsh; it’s not much to do with Irish. The Irish say “da” (dah) or “dadai” (dah-dee) for their dads, which are either short for “an t-athair” (an-taher, “the father”) or glommed from the English.

        “An Dagda” means “the good god,” (dag, good, and Da, a god) not “the father god.” He’s a fertility figure, it’s unavoidable to say; but that’s fertility of fields more than fertility of himself. (Hence the story about him using his wingwang as a plow.) He did have the name Oll-athair (“great father”) for the many gods and goddesses he fathered among the Tuatha De Danaan, but that’s a whole different story.

        • suburbanbanshee

          Oh, and the Aramaic “abba” doesn’t mean “daddy.” It’s a formal respectful term, not an informal one; but it’s an intimate term because you only use it as a term of address for your own father or someone you regard as like a father; you never refer to someone else’s father as an abba. (Which is why Middle Eastern monks have an “abba,” taking care of them like their own father, and which is where our word “abbot” came from.)

          So yeah, if it helps you to think of “Dad” or “Daddy” as an equivalent, there’s nothing wrong with that; but it’s not a little daddy like some people use it; more like when your Daddy was the biggest person in the world, but also yours.

          • suburbanbanshee

            Re: just saw Lynch below — Okay, some Irish spell it Daddy!

        • http://fpb.livejournal.com/ Fabio P.Barbieri

          It wasn’t his wingwang, and he didn’t use it as a plough. It was his enormous magic club, and he used to dig the borders between the provinces of Ireland.

  • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

    I didn’t know this. Interesting.

  • Peter Wiebe

    Over here in Ontario, we see an ever increasing amount of young,single moms raising their children. One often wonders where the daddy is after the baby is born. We have a whole generation of children growing up in broken and disfunctional homes. As a daddy to 4 young boys (one of which is now with his Heavenly Father), I am very much aware that our children need their daddys to model our Heavenly Father to them. May God raise up a generation of Daddys that will model Christ to their children.

    • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

      Thank you Peter. I believe that a lot of cultural craziness, including the rise of nihilism, is due to sad state of our families. We aren’t building nests for our babies, and our babies are growing up confused people without a center. Thank you for loving your family and caring for them. God bless you in your suffering for your little one who has gone on ahead of you.

  • http://alifeinhishands.wordpress.com rsmunchel

    beautiful tribute :)

    • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

      Thank you, and thank you also for the reblog.

  • http://alifeinhishands.wordpress.com rsmunchel

    Reblogged this on alifeinhishands and commented:
    This a beautiful tribute to a dad. I am just old enough to relate to this. Oh my how things have changed, just in my 5 decades. May men learn to be real dad’s, real men again. WE need them to.

  • http://newmillenia.wordpress.com Nepsis

    Love this post! Daddys and Uncles, they both did right by us. “Dad” or “Daddy” is been in use since the 16th century, and a real man always loves hearing that word out of his children’s mouths.

    • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

      Thank you! Daddies, along with Mamas, are the building blocks of civilization. If a man or woman doesn’t take care of their own children, nothing else they do matters.

      • Zainuddin

        I remember my daddy telling me that his success would be measured not only by how well I did but also by how well I raised my children to pass on the values he gave me.

    • Don

      “Daddy” has been around longer than that. Jesus called God “Abba” which is Daddy in Aramaic. The prayer “Our Father, who art in heaven” – the word Jesus used for “father” is that word Abba. That’s how we’re to address him too.

      • Ossian

        Oops, sorry, Don. I left my comment before reading yours.

  • http://jessicahof.wordpress.com JessicaHof

    Your memories made me cry ‘cos I was remembering my daddy, who was quire old (50) when I was born, and I was remembering those communities of men like your daddy and mine. They’re broken and gone now, like so many homes and families. How we need our societies to turn to Jesus.

    • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton


  • http://sptp2011.wordpress.com SPTP2011

    My Daddy was the same – (except for the horses)
    There is a wonderful sense of well-being and comfort from knowing you were loved by your earthly Daddy every day of your life
    God Bless

    • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

      This is so true.

      “There is a wonderful sense of well-being and comfort from knowing you were loved by your earthly Daddy every day of your life”

      • http://sptp2011.wordpress.com SPTP2011

        God bless
        My hope is our children will remember our ” loving side” more than our faults once we go home to the Lord

        • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

          They will. St Paul said “These three abide, faith, hope, love.” I believe (and this is just my personal interpretation) that this means that faith, hope, love are what “abide” with us when we pass over. All we take out of this life is our faith, hope, love. The rest of it stays here.

          • http://sptp2011.wordpress.com SPTP2011

            Beautiful Interpretation!
            We will be welcomed into the Light of His Love
            God Bless

      • http://heartfulmemories@wordpress.com Janice Oliver

        My daddy, my mentor is with our heavenly Father a long time now. Yet his unconditional love has never left me. I’m blessed to have three sons who like their grandfather are great Daddy’s. Thank you for this post Rebecca.

  • http://ilove10.wordpress.com ilove10

    what a lovely post, thank you for reminding us parents what really matters.

    • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

      As one mom to another, thank you!

  • http://thoughtsonthekingdom.wordpress.com jrsorrow

    Jesus told His followers they were brothers; they didn’t take honorary titles to themselves just as Jesus told them not to do.
    In one place Peter called himself an elder, in another he referred to Paul as brother Paul. Paul’s favorite word for himself was that of a servant. I think thy of Christ not with calling our earthly father’s daddy or poppa or even (f)ather for that matter. Some because they did’t have a good experience with their earthly fathers has a really hard time understanding a Heavenly Father’s love.

    • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

      Thank you for this information.

  • http://pjgracecommunity.wordpress.com pjgracecommunity

    Thanks for sharing that Rebecca , some People resent great stories and happy out come but even if our expreience isn’t so it’s still the best outcome, thanks for sharing that, blessings.

    • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

      Thank you Peter!

  • stclementmom

    I would like to be more and more like your daddy and less and less like a person “… who would get panicky on a horse and then take it out on the horse by yanking the bits, yelling at the animal…” Thanks for sharing.

    • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

      Thank you for your comment!

  • http://simplyjuliana.wordpress.com simplyjuliana

    Beautiful, touching and true!!

    • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

      Thank you Juliana.

  • http://thoughtsfromanamericanwoman.wordpress.com thoughtsfromanamericanwoman

    there is nothing more special than to have a daddy – thank you for sharing your daddy with us! Blessings – Patty

    • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

      Thanks Patty!

  • http://catholicbelle.wordpress.com CATHOLIC BELLE

    I love this post! Your description of an Oklahoman is perfect. I learned plumbing and electrical work when I was a teenager from my dad. I miss him. He passed away when I was 19. I think people–or parents–from Oklahoma have a pioneer spirit they instill in their children. It is what makes us different from people from other states. There is a little bit of cowboy in us. :)

    • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

      Thank you. I can’t imagine a place where there wasn’t a little bit of cowboy in everyone!

  • http://nebraskaenergyobserver.wordpress.com neenergyobserver

    Rebecca, I’m going to reblog this but, I wanted to say to you, your memories of your Daddy made me cry (not many can) remembering my Dad.

    • http://publiccatholic.wordpress.com Rebecca Hamilton

      It sounds as if our Daddys were cast from the same mold. Lucky us.

      Thanks for the re-blog.

      • http://nebraskaenergyobserver.wordpress.com neenergyobserver

        They were indeed. They were men, very much an endangered species, nowadays. We are indeed lucky.

  • http://nebraskaenergyobserver.wordpress.com neenergyobserver

    Reblogged this on nebraskaenergyobserver and commented:
    Have you ever wondered what it means to be a man? Rebecca knows, and tells beautifully. I’ve written about my Dad, and he could be Rebecca’s uncle they were so much alike. Sure, in my family we ride poles instead of horses but, there might be a reason why we are the other profession that wears cowboy boots. A wonderful post, read it and enjoy.

  • http://mennonitepreacher.wordpress.com Pastor Bill

    Great blog posts, and I follow your blog often. I’ve noticed occasionally you like our blog at mennonitepreacher.wordpress.com I’d like you to subscribe to get the e-mail updates, FB updates or WordPress, etc I’d like to know more of your mind and your thinking—worthwhile, I think, to do so, and try to really understand what Jesus has brought each of us to.
    Peace and blessings,

  • http://breakpoint.org Gina

    Love it. I’m so very thankful to have a good daddy. Many of my friends don’t, and it’s been so hard for them.

    • Rebecca Hamilton

      Thank you Gina. I think a lot of the destructive behavior we see around us is due to absent fathers and the insecurity of broken homes, or, in the case of unwed births, no family unit at all.

  • http://www.asongnotscoredforbreathing.blogspot.com Hope

    You are blessed to have had a daddy like that.

    • Rebecca Hamilton

      Yes. I know.

  • http://tljax.wordpress.com tl

    What a beautiful tribute to your father! I had many similar memories, sort of swirled with “what not to do” lessons in the same batch of dough. Thank the Father for earthly daddies!

  • http://mrbnd.wordpress.com Benjamin Nelson (@MrBND)

    I love this – thank you.

  • http://www.keeplifelegal.com Rev. Katherine Marple

    That warmed my heart! Precious!

  • http://Heartonthejourney.wordpress.com Paul Bradford

    Ahhhh, did I just witness an example of Okie pride, or was it the ever popular ‘reverse snobbery’?
    Darling, darling, darling Rebecca! I want you to know that even up here in Cambridge Massachusetts, where I get to confer, converse and otherwise hobnob with my brother intellectuals we’re proud of our policemen and our construction workers and our automobile mechanics (of course, our mechanics host wildly popular shows on NPR).
    I can’t say for sure, but I’ll bet that if you scoured the highways and byways of Oklahoma you’d be able to locate a stray attorney, or college professor, or medical doctor.
    And I want you to never, never forget that those of us who are Daddies up Boston way love our daughters and work hard to convince them that they’re starlight, moonlight and sunshine all at once!
    BTW, there must be something in the air. My last post was about my father. I’d love to get your comment.
    Peace of Jesus to you,

    • Rebecca Hamilton

      Paul, this line from your blog, “We get to decide for ourselves whether we had good parents or bad simply by deciding what we’re going to remember about them” is wise and true. Your blog touches me deeply. Thanks to both you and Pam for writing it.

  • http://begojohnson.com Maria Johnson

    This is beautiful! Real men!

  • Paul Giroux

    I fully agree. In this little Ontario town of Marmora, you wouldn’t believe the number of unwed mothers.
    Lots of guys hang around so who knows who the real father is?

  • Mike C

    My Dad did all these things – and still does them – with a self-deprecating wit that I’ve tried my best to absorb. He always managed to make fun of his dignity without ever losing it.

    Example: I was tasked with mowing the lawn as a youngster, but before I could get going, I had to tangle with a recalcitrant Lawn-Boy mower that never seemed to “light off” properly. After several failed attempts to start the mower, Dad noticed my plight and started disassembling the carburetor. He showed me where to blow compressed air through the intake – “OK, aim the air nozzle there” – “pulled ‘er through” a couple of times, then reinstalled the components.

    Dad gave the starter an energetic tug, and the engine fired right up.

    “Wow, Dad!”, I said. With a twinkle in his eye, Dad replied, “See, I knew it just needed a big jerk!”

    Dad is anything but. He did it all, and laughed his way through everything. I pray every day that our Lord gives me the grace to be half the man he is.


  • Karl K

    This post touched me deeply. It brought back such fond memories of my own Daddy who never called an auto mechanic or a plumber and converted half of the back patio into my own bedroom when he thought I was too old to be sharing a bedroom with my two younger brothers. We didn’t own horses and I never stole a pack of gum, but he also taught me enduring lessons. When I was twelve I found a wallet at the state fair filled with $20 bills. My Dad looked at me and said, “you know we have to head over to the lost and found office right away.” As we walked over I asked him if I thought I met get a reward for finding it and turning it in. He looked at me sternly and said, “You might, but that’s not why we’re doing it.” When we arrived the frantic owner of the wallet was their waiting anxiously. She smiled and thanked me profusely but alas no reward.
    My Dad looked at me and said, “Son, you did the right thing and that is its own reward.” I will never forget that lesson or so many other lessons my Dad taught me and I strive everyday to be half as good a Daddy to my own daughter.

  • Dennis Neylon

    Thank you for this fine tribute! I have a wonderful dad too. I never had children of my own to pass down the wisdom he passed on to me, but am trying to pass it on to my grandchildren. God bless the fathers who take the time to be dads to their children!

  • http://www.belleviewbc.org John Budde

    Wonderful post. I don’t get back to Oklahoma much anymore. My parents are buried in Lawton, but the rest of us are widely scattered. My mother used to say, “You can tell everything about a man by the way he treats his animals. A man that will beat his horse will beat his wife and kids.” Sadly, I think she was right. you have written a great blog about being a father and a wonderful tribute to your own.

  • http://CatholicNews Thomas Lynch

    Daddy and Mammy as I remember 70 years ago in Ireland worked hard and look after his wife and children God rest their immortal Souls

  • Mannup Hijkarb

    “The men I grew up around never worried about being man enough.”

    Unfortunately boys today are taught not to be men, whether in church or public school. If one grows up in a suburb without a father, it is possible never to be exposed to tools, animals, or friendly competition.

    Lousy upbringings combined with penalizing divorce and affirmative action laws contribute to the large numbers of men dropping out of society. If you want the next generation of Americans to have daddy’s that love them, work toward reforming the divorce laws in your state and only send your sons to schools where they are allowed to defend the weak and innocent.

  • Albert (The Pedant) Curtis

    I just can’t let this set… “The origins of “Daddy”…
    My youngest are 2-and-a-half, and the among the first coherent sounds they made were “da” and “dada”, so of course they were talking about _Me_!
    Do you notice how, in most of the languages shown in SuburbanBanshee’s example, the sounds are so similar? That’s because babies make the same sounds everywhere.
    The “Mmmmm” sound comes much later. My wife was irrationally hurt when our babies were saying “dada” for weeks before saying “Ma”.
    Frankly, I believe my son’s first _real_ word, the first sound he related to a definite object wasn’t “dada” when he looked at me, his “dada” and “dadadada” were just sounds he was making to be cute. The first “thing” that he had a name for was my dog, “Jet”. When he’d see my dog, he’d say “Jet”.

    • Kristen inDallas

      the m sound only comes later if we’re confining it to pleasant babble. Babies will scream and cry out Maaaaa! or Mwaaaa! when hungry well before they will “say” anything. But just because it’s not pleasent sounding, doesn’t mean it’s not mom. :)

  • http://mywordwall.wordpress.com Imelda

    What a lovely post, Rebecca. :-)
    Sometimes, I resent my father for being too strict, but then, it was his strictness that perhaps made me learn values and stick with them. For that, I am appreciative.

    • Rebecca Hamilton

      Thank you Imelda.

  • http://ninashmore@yahoo.com ninashmore

    Rebecca, I truly appreciate the stand you make for righteousness. You have some wonderful posts. You are an energetic person and are making a difference. I loved this post. It brought tears to my eyes. I had a wonderful dad as well. Thank you for liking some of my posts on my blog. Forgive me for not responding every time; although I have commented before. Thank you again and take care.

    • Rebecca Hamilton

      Thank you for your lovely comment.

  • http://allstraw.blogspot.com Niall Mor

    Thank you for this wonderful tribute. My Dad, may he rest in peace, was very much the kind of man you describe. My older brothers tell a story about their younger years when they committed a petty theft from a local chain store. They were caught, and the store manager called my Dad. Dad didn’t punish them physically, and he didn’t yell, but he did talk to them about how disappointed he was in them. He talked to them about how it takes a lifetime to build up trust and respect but only an instant to break it down. My brother says that lesson has remained with him to this day.

    • Rebecca Hamilton

      That’s how my Daddy would have handled it. When parents have a real relationship with their children, it’s all that’s needed. Thank you for this beautiful comment.

  • http://fpb.livejournal.com/ Fabio P.Barbieri

    I can’t say anything more than this, but – you know you are lucky, but you will never know just how lucky you are, because you will never know what the reverse of what you have had can do to people. Not from the inside, I mean.

  • http://ashesfromburntroses.blogspot.com/ Manny

    I loved this post. They don’t make men like your father any more. Well, they do, but there is a lot less of them than before. What’s happened? I can’t make up my mind if it’s a failure on the part of men living up to their responsibilities or feminist destroying the need for real men, and eliminating male responsibility. Probably both.

    • Rebecca Hamilton

      I think it’s more to do with the destruction of the value we should place on character, love, family, truth, caring, etc. We’ve become a “me” society and real men — or real women — are an anomaly in this world. We don’t value true manliness anymore because it is the opposite selfishness and moral relativism.

  • Mike

    Every child deserves a Mommy and Daddy…a simple truth but how dangerous it has already become.

  • KyPerson

    I’m taking care of my Daddy. 93 and has dementia. It’s the saddest thing in the world.

    • hamiltonr

      I’m caring for my mother. who has dementia. It’s difficult. Prayers for you.