Fathers, be good to your daughters, Daughters will love like you do

Just sitting here opening my Valentine's day card from my dad. He sends one every single year and it's probably the one memory I will remember with the most fondness. I save all of them, they mean so much, and I usually tear up. I don't always say great things about my dad honestly, I mean he is the person who will always hurt me the most, day in an day out, and who I will never hear an apology from. He was the source of a lot of my bitterness and cynicism as a teenager, although I hadn't connected the dots at that time. His role in my life continuously feeds the flame of my insecurities creating a severe inability to trust men, and an ever-so-guarded heart. When you live with these emotions daily it is only natural to become so unnaturally stoic and guarded with people. I'm deeply afraid to let men in because I've only felt rejection from my own father, never adding up...to what that is, hmm well, I will never know...Any affirmation ever given no more than left his mouth that it turned sour, as if he regretted giving me a piece of hope. Over time I have just built up this thick skin when I am with him, unable to really engage in anything meaningful because it never sticks and my spirit is always crushed eventually. This leaves a mark on a girl after awhile. I have worked really hard at not letting my relationship with my father or his mistakes and regrets hang over my life like a banner that reads "bitter, mess up, not worth it." Because my Dad did make choices a long time ago without thinking about the effects it would have on his children...in their twenties, and their thirties, and even their eighties...when he is long gone. And for these reasons I save every Valentine from him. Ironic isn't it. This year he sent me a card that says
"Thinking of a special you. You're a daughter to be proud of, for everywhere you go you always add some happiness, much more than you could know. And so this valentine for you seems just the time to say you're thought about with pride and love on each and every day."  And so one day, when I am 70 or eighty-something, I will remember that I was loved by my Dad, even though it hurt to be loved by him when he was living, but not on Valentines day. Valentine's was the 1 easy day in all 365...every year.
My sister and I recently confessed to each other our intrigue with little girls and their "daddy's." There is nothing sweeter than that relationship, and nothing more bitter sweet than to watch a little girl experience something I never had, and wonder how she will turn out. I always tear up when I see a moment pass between dad and daughter, and try to take in the experience myself hoping it will somehow heal broken places in my heart.