Daddy’s Hands

I have to admit that Father’s Day is rough for me.

It has been 16 years since the day he died, and every Father’s Day since puts me into a funk. As I’ve posted before, my Daddy was precious to me…I was definitely “Daddy’s Little Girl.” When I see Amanda and her dad interact, it sometimes takes me back to when I was her age and I can see how she adores him just as much as I adored my Daddy. I am thankful for the fond memories he left me to cherish for the rest of my life.

Other than to say that, I just don’t have a whole lot else to say about Father’s Day, but I do want to share the lyrics to the song that so profoundly spoke to me during the time when I was planning Daddy’s funeral.

I’m not really sure why, but I’m the type of person that has to face extremely painful situations alone. When it was time for the visitation, I knew that I couldn’t deal with seeing my dad in a casket for the first time with a bunch of people around me. I decided that I would go to the funeral home earlier that afternoon and spend some alone time with him.

When the funeral director took me to the parlor, I just couldn’t believe how he looked. He didn’t even look like my Daddy. They had blow-dried his hair when my dad still used “grease” (well, it was Vitalis…he was old school!) so it just didn’t look right. Plus, with the trauma his body went through in the wreck, well…I’m afraid there just wasn’t a whole lot they could’ve done to make him look like he was “just sleeping.” It was at that moment that I decided that except for family who might want to see him beforehand, the casket would be closed for the public. He wouldn’t want to be remembered that way.

However, the one thing that was still Daddy were his hands. Those weathered, dark tan hands with the grease still embedded in the lines and creases of his skin from years of working on cars for a living. I will never forget those hands.

After spending a few more moments alone with him, I immediately went to a store to buy picture frames to put pictures around his casket (including the one above) so that his friends would remember him the way he should be. Then I went to the record store and bought a tape of this song, and played it the next day for his funeral.

To this day, I still cannot listen to it all the way through without breaking down in tears…but I have come to treasure these words so much because I will always love Daddy’s Hands…

I remember Daddy’s hands
Folded silently in prayer
And reaching out to hold me
When I had a nightmare
You could read quite a story
In the callouses and lines
Years of work and worry
Had left their mark behind

I remember Daddy’s hands
How they held my Mama tight
And patted my back
For something done right
There are things I’ve forgotten
That I loved about the man
But I’ll always remember
The love in Daddy’s hands

Daddy’s hands
Were soft and kind when I was cryin’
Daddy’s hands
Were hard as steel when I’d done wrong
Daddy’s hands
Weren’t always gentle but I’ve come to understand
There was always love in Daddy’s hands

I remember Daddy’s hands
Working ’til they bled
Sacrificed unselfishly
Just to keep us all fed
If I could do things over
I’d live my life again
And never take for granted
The love in Daddy’s hands

Daddy’s hands
Were soft and kind when I was cryin’
Daddy’s hands
Were hard as steel when I’d done wrong
Daddy’s hands
Weren’t always gentle but I’ve come to understand
There was always love in Daddy’s hands

Daddy’s hands
Were soft and kind when I was cryin’
Daddy’s hands
Were hard as steel when I’d done wrong
Daddy’s hands
Weren’t always gentle but I’d come to understand
There was always love ………… in Daddy’s hands

You can listen to it here:

*Written by Holly Dunn