This Sunday is Father’s Day. Usually, to celebrate, we make my dad steaks on the grill with all his favorite sides, but this year, everyone else in my family (besides me and Jen) will be on a cruise. So, my dad can spend the day feeling honored as he lies out in the sun, probably taking a well-deserved nap, and we’ll make the steaks when he gets home.

One of my first memories of my dad was of him taking naps with me. See, rooted deep within my psyche is a need to sleep when I’m emotionally spent, and my dad seemed to understand this as soon as I was born, probably because I inherited the quality from him. When it was time for me to go to first grade, I was horribly traumatized. The idea of spending an entire day with the meanest teacher in the whole school was just too much for me to bear. I would slip into the bathroom and cry by myself, telling the other kids my eyes were just watering when they gave me suspicious looks. Then, I’d go home and sob to my mommy and daddy that I just wasn’t ready for first grade. (By the way, they love retelling this story). My dad would pat me on the back and say “I know what you need, little lamb. You need a good nap.” Then he’d turn on the fan in their bedroom, cover me up with my blanky, and continue to pat my back, rhythmically, unto I’d stopped crying and fallen to sleep.

This comforting ritual continued through most of my childhood. I grew to develop a deep bond with my dad, partly rooted in his uncanny ability to understand me and what made me tick, and partly because he just believed in me. I grew up to be one of those women who expects everything, both from myself and the world, because my parents told me I could. My dad used to lavish attention on us girls at Valentine’s Day, buying us roses and jewelry and candy in amounts just slightly smaller than what he gave our mom, just to show us how much he loved her too. He always said “I don’t want you girls to settle for any old port in the storm.”

So, here I am, all grown up now, and I’m proud to say that I didn’t settle on any old port in the storm. I married someone who expects just as much from life, and who also has the ability to look at me, look through me, and just know.

Last fall, my dad turned sixty. I insisted on throwing him a huge barbecue at my late uncle’s place. My siblings helped out, and together we threw a great party, complete with catered Rib Crib and the entire extended family. It turned out to be one of those perfect, Oklahoma autumn afternoons. My mom walked around with her camera, capturing snap shots of all the families. It cost a lot of money, but really, what is money when you’re spending it on someone you love so much? Eight months later, we’ve lost two of those family members that attended the barbecue. I will never, ever regret having that party for my dad.

So, this Father’s Day, I’m really going to miss seeing my dad, but he deserves that vacation. Drink a virgin pina colada for me, Daddy. And when you drift to sleep by the pool out on the deck of the cruise ship, know that your daughter also sleeps easy, because of you.