This weekend I was in Kansas City at my oldest nephew’s wedding. It was spectacular. The bride was beautiful but I was partial to the groom. My brother and the groom’s brother were best men for the groom. That is a southern tradition to those of you who don’t know. If the groom loves his father, then that man is his best friend.
The bride has a little daughter who looked like a little angel when she walked through the door as a flower girl. On Friday, at the rehearsal, she had been instructed along with the other flower girl to walk slowly and drop petals along the way to the altar. Well, this little two year old, as soon as the door opened, looked at my nephew and screamed, “Hi, Daddy,” as loud as she could. He has been her father since she was eight months old.
What could he do? He put out his arms and said, “Come to daddy.” She ran all the way into his arms, where he picked her up. Then he reminded her that she needed to drop petals. She did. The whole basket and then told him that she needed more.
This is a memory they will all cherish, especially, daddy.