The Bond Between Father and Daughter or I Never Thought Phil Collins Would Make Me Cry

Most nights, when the inevitable bedtime rolls around, I lay down with The Peanut for a few minutes. We talk, we giggle, we say prayers. Sometimes she will pepper me with questions about any one of a thousand random topics, sometimes she will debrief me on her day at school, who was a good listener and who was not, who had to sit in the "thinking chair" and the unfortunate choice that got them banished there, and sometimes we just lay there, enjoying a few quiet moments as our hearts beat close together. I do not exaggerate when I say that these few minutes are the highlight of my day. I treasure each one of them because I know that one day, all too soon, they will come to an end.

Last night, after all the night time routines had been completed (the running of the bath, the brushing of the teeth, the reading of a story, and the fetching of the glass of water) we went into her room. The Peanut hopped into bed, American Girl Doll and newest Build-A-Bear (we have so many of these bears I think our house could get federal funding as a preserve) in hand. I performed my duly appointed duties, turning off the overhead light, switching on the Nemo night light, and turning on the radio. Much like her father, The Peanut loves to drift off to sleep listening to music. My mother-in-law is a loyal listener of 99.5 WJBR and my daughter insists on being able to listen to "Grammy Music" at night.



I tucked her in and took my customary spot to her right. Things started off as they do on any other night. First she asked how my day was. I informed her that it was pretty good and she quickly filled me in on her day. Then she launched into a joke ("Daddy, what did the little shrimp say when his mom asked why he wouldn't share any of his toys?" "I don't know, what?" "Sorry, I'm a little shelfish!") and giggled, even though it was her one thousand fifty-sixth telling of that same joke. I chuckled and told her it was time for some new material.

At that point the opening notes of Phil Collins' song You'll Be In My Heart from the Disney version of Tarzan started to play. As the first verse began I started to sing softly along with Phil. The Peanut immediately stopped giggling and began to listen. When I got to the chorus she placed her small hand on my arm, her fingers moving slowly back and forth. She just laid there and looked into my eyes as I sang to her. Toward the end of the song tears began to form at the corners of her eyes, but her warm smile never faltered. It was the sweetest, most adult, yet wholly childlike expression I have ever seen her make.

When the song ended she threw her arms around me and her shoulders shook as she began to cry. I was totally unprepared for this reaction. Perplexed, I let her cry for a bit then I asked her what was wrong, why she was so sad.

I will carry her reply in my heart until my dying day...and most likely beyond.

"These aren't sad tears...they're happy tears. You sing so beautiful and when you sing to me, it makes me feel all your love. I love you daddy!"

This from the mouth of a six year old.

As I held my little girl and her tears soaked into the fabric of my shirt and my own began to fall freely to join them, I realized how much power I have as her father to either make her feel genuinely loved...or to completely tear her down. I think that is something a lot of fathers of young daughters never fully realize or appreciate. With the simplest of words or actions I can make her feel like the queen of the universe...or its lowest speck of dirt. I think I always knew this...but I never really appreciated the raw power of it. A few lines of a mostly decent song, sung by me to her and her alone, communicated my love to her far greater than any verbal assurances I could make.

I walked out of the room slightly weak in the knees. I felt like we had shared one of those seminal moments as father and daughter that we will still talk about thirty years from now, Lord willing. If something as simple as singing a song can communicate my love so strongly to my little girl, just think how strongly my words and actions can do the same as she grows into a young woman.

I will be forever grateful for that experience last night. I hope and pray that all fathers get the chance to experience the same. And I pray that when they do, that they seize the moment and build their daughters up as only they, as father, can do.