Laugh Every Day

I walk out into the sun of a summer day. I am twelve years old. My hair is in a ponytail and I am going to help my daddy build a pitching board for my little brother. He lets me use the hammer and teaches my how to use a tape measure. We laugh when he warns me to be careful with the nails and then promptly whacks his thumb with a hammer. He stands up and I see just how tall he is. At six foot three inches tall he looks to me like the giant from “Jack and the Beanstalk”. He has a woolly face and when he hugs me it tickles so much I have to giggle. He is sweaty from head to toe and smells like a mixture of fresh cut wood and Gain laundry detergent. All of my friends think my daddy is handsome and all of my boyfriends think he is scarier than Rambo on steroids. He kisses my mom everyday like they are still kids in high school and tells my brother and me that he loves us when we go to bed. My daddy is perfect.

That was eight years ago and only a few days before my dad had his accident.

He was hunting with my brother and fell off of the back of his truck, hitting his neck and injuring his spinal cord. He was declared dead three times. My world stopped. I felt like I was the one dying. Today my father is paralyzed and only has limited use of his hands, but he is alive. My family changed and we are still adapting.

The only good thing about the accident is seeing my dad come through it all. He came through the injury, the recovery, and the emotional trials to adapt to his new life. He went from being the strongest man I knew to having to have his food cut up for him. One day he was racing with me and my brother in our backyard the next he was learning to drive a motorized wheelchair. My dad was perfect and he isn’t perfect anymore - his body isn’t anyway. But he is still the best dad I have ever imagined.

Dad still sings every morning, mainly off key and always song he has made up. Sometimes I have to beg him to stop because our dog is howling at him and my dad is drowning out the dog. He laughs more than anyone I know and laughs with his whole body. It starts in his mouth and throat and spreads until his whole body is engaged in a laughter that he cannot contain. He is a trustee in our church. He even taught my brother to pitch from his wheelchair. He takes pride in my academics and in my brother being a college pitcher. He still kisses my mom every day. He always says, “Laugh every day and always say 'I love you'.”

I never leave my dad or anyone I love without reminding them how I feel, because I may not get another chance.