Sunday is Father's Day. Rather than marking it with declarations about why our fathers are the greatest, or how-to guides on buying Dad the best ties or tools, Yahoo News solicited first-person anecdotes about the more difficult moments or memories we have of our fathers. Here's one reader's story.FIRST PERSON | As the youngest of three children, I was definitely Daddy's little girl. I learned early on that there wasn't much a good, "Daddy, please" wouldn't get me. Throughout the years, I often used that phrase accompanied with the appropriate head tilt and glowing smile.
One of my best "Daddy, please" moments came when I was a teenager asking for a car. Like most children, I had driven my parents crazy about getting to drive. Now that I have a 16-year-old son, I realize I should apologize about that -- so sorry folks!
I had found a 1981 black Camero that I just had to have. Nothing else would do. I wanted that car. My dad saw it for the piece of junk it was and tried to talk me into a number of other cars. He even offered to get me a brand new Pontiac Sunbird, but I preferred the 6-year-old sports car with tons of problems. After much begging, pouting, and probably foot stomping, my dad got me the Camero. I was so happy! Unfortunately, that happiness was short-lived as the car spent more time in the shop than with me behind the wheel. To his credit, not once did my dad say, "I told you so." He just quietly paid the repair bills until I agreed to a better car a few years later.
My dad and I had a lot in common. We were both neat freaks, loved chocolate, and supported each other through the most difficult times in our lives. When I was pregnant with my son (and the first grandchild), I was diagnosed with cancer. My parents were there for me the whole way through my treatments. My mom came to Texas and stayed with me while me dad kept things running at home in Arkansas.
Fast forward a few years. My dad developed Parkinson's Disease, which progressed over time. We finally got my parents to move to Texas, and I was looking forward to spending tons of time with my dad. However, shortly after the move, I was again diagnosed with cancer. Shockingly, my dad was also diagnosed with cancer four months later. Having this dreaded disease was not something I wanted us to have in common, but we could now relate to each other in a way others could not. Cancer brought us even closer.
While I was lucky enough to beat this disease again, my dad was not. We lost him about six months after learning of his illness. This was the one time my, "Daddy, please" didn't work. There are still days I cannot believe he is gone. What I wouldn't do for one more hug, smile, and ounce of unconditional fatherly love.