When I would look at men who had little girls there was something different about them. They had this look about them that was different from those of us with only sons. There was a tenderness in their eyes as they would watch their daughters play or walk or sleep. There was a gentleness to how they handled their little girls. And, there was the look of incredible love when that little girl would look back over her shoulder at her daddy.
The day, the moment, that Libby was born, I understood. There is something unique about little girls. They are sweet and gentle. You look at their face and know that soon you will hear that little voice whisper, “Daddy.” Just knowing that your heart melts, just the thought of it. I love my son with all that I am. He is my buddy, my partner. But there is something different about my Libby. It’s hard to explain.
There is just something special about the love of a Daddy toward his little girl. A desire to protect her. A desire to keep her safe from the fallen world. The reality that another will come along one day and make her his own. Knowing that some day she will wear a white dress and take the hand of another man. She will not always be all mine.
I don’t know. There is something intangible about the love of a father to a daughter. I can not possibly do it justice. All I know is that I love her and get lost as I watch her. All I know is that I see her Mommy in her and know that she is an amazing gift that is to be cherished and loved only to be given away.