My father. Hands down. My mom is an alcoholic who probably shouldn’t have had children, as she doesn’t seem to like them much. Not even her grandchildren. My dad may not have been the greatest husband, but he has always been there for me and my brother. When my brother died in 2003, at the age of 35, it made my father and I even closer. He lives 1900 miles away from me now, and I miss him every day.

From another “Daddy’s Girl”: I adored my father who died at 63, which is what I am now. He was always supportive of me and my ambitions, long before anyone talked about the “only daughter” phenomenon. My greatest regret is that I lost him before I achieved significant career success which would have made him incredibly proud. My mother was the disciplinarian, and we had a rocky relationship well into my adult years. Like Candace, I had the opportunity to work on that in her last years and had peace of mind when I lost her at age 86. What I didn’t expect was to miss her as much as I do.

Neither! My mother was an alcoholic and a drug abuser and my father abused us (my brothers and myself) all the time. They also both knew of the incest I went thru with one of my brothers and they did nothing about it. I had a terrible childhood and it carried over to my adulthood. I’ve dealt with it and know that God got me thru that whole mess. Guess I had to go thru it for some reason. I’m a much stronger person I know. So I guess that’s a good thing.

The older I get, and the more comfortable I feel discussing my childhood dysfunctional family, the more I realize that so many kids were going through the same thing. I always felt alone with my feelings and home life. I think Carol Wilson and I have the same mother. And I guess I have to admit, they did teach me how NOT to parent and be married. I have a great marriage and a great relationship with my kids.

I was always close to my Dad. He would be in his workshop in the basement building stuff and I would be right there next to him, helping , cleaning up, learning. We talked about everything. He showed me some of the most important things I’ve learned in my life, and to this day, when a plumbing problem comes up, my husband will almost always say, “You should know how to fix this, your Dad must have showed you how.” I miss him terribly, (he died in 1991) but I still have all the wonderful memories and knowledge that he gave me and I wouldn’t change a thing about being Daddy’s little helper. He was the perfect man, husband, and father and I truly believe he made me the woman, wife and mother I am today. Not that I’m perfect, but at least I know what it looks like.

I loved each of them equally but differently. Dad showed me strength and endurance in a masculine way, but mom has shown me the same qualities in a feminine and maternal way. Dad passed away when he was 69-years-old. He was tackling liver cancer — he maintained that he was going to “beat it” and even as he took his last breath, he was fighting to breathe and stay alive. I saw his vulnerability as he took his last breath — he reached for me and asked me to hold him. That was the first time in my life I saw my dad reach for someone else to give him strength. Mom worked her entire life — until she retired. She had to supplement the family income to keep us going. She was the one I always went to when I was frightend, needed encouragement or “life’s lessons to grow on.” When my son died in 1991, it was my mother’s arms I ran to. Mom is 83 now and in the early to mid stages of Alzheimers. I call her several times a day now to make sure she has taken her medications. I take her food; take her to the doctor; pick up her prescriptions and so on. It is my turn now to pay her back all the love and encouragement she gave to me during my growing years. Mom and dad carried me from the time I was born until death and disease brought their abilities to love and carry me to an end. I graciously and gratefully will carry my mom as long as God graces me with her precious life. It is an honor to do for her what she spent a lifetime doing for me.

I was adopted into an extremely dysfunctional family. My “parents” split up when I was around 6. My “dad” was pretty much absent from then on. The woman who calls herself my mother became bitter and extremely abusive to me after her husband left. She had given birth to 2 children before they adopted me, and she treated her own children the way children should be treated. I was her physical and emotional punching bag. My nickname as a child was “CindaGinger” - her children made a joke of the way I was abused. I finally - at 40 years old - had the courage to write a long letter to the woman who calls herself my mother, letting her know how her abuse affected me, and still does. That was a year ago. She hasn’t acknowleged the letter or its contents, and we haven’t spoken since she received it. I’m very content.

My parents divorced when I was 4yrs.old Mom got custody of me and my sister. She has married at least 5 times. I did not really know much about my Dad, just that he was late with the child support payments and that he was “gay”. I went to be with my father when I was about 10, he was in the army and stationed in Panama. We had lots of fun. But he never used the words “I Love You” . I never brought friends by. Then when we went to the states I went back to my Mother. I have two half brothers. One my Mom gave away to one of our distant relatives to be adopted. My other brother had Cancer in the eye, he wore a glass eye. He was always into fights. In and out of school. But today My Father and I have a great relationship and he told me that he is proud of me and that he loves me. He even calls me to see how I am doing and what did the Doctor say. My mother has nothing to do with me she can not love more than one child at a time and for now that is my Sister. I have tried to call but she hangs up on me. I have sent her cards and letters and she either sends them back or throws them away. I am glad that she is close to my Daughter. They do lunch and my mother helps her with my grandson. Boy is he so cute and smart. I told both of my children that whatever goes on between my mother and me should not interfere with their relationship! My son however does not call her nor will he no matter how much I try. He was and still is a “mama” s boy. He does not know what happened but that is the choice he has made. So I guess I am a daddy’s little girl and always will be. I do however miss my mom.

That’s easy for sure, my mother….she was the only one there! My “sperm donor” was MIA.

My birth mother died when I WAS 6 months old. Through a very long story I ended up with my dad’s brother and his wife when I was 2 (my aunt was 50). They had 5 boys. The youngest was seveteen. The next to the youngest had died in a car accident 3 months before they took me. I called my aunt MOM and my uncle PAPAW (don’t know why). My dad was “around” but never really there. Papaw worshiped me and nurtured me I loved him more than I did my dad. He died in 1985. My “mom” I thought when I was younger was mean. But as I grew into adulthood I realized was the most patient loving and wonderful person. She loved me as one of her own and rasied me just as she would have her sons. I never went with out anything I needed even if my dad refused to provide it. He NEVER paid child support the only help they received financialy was the social security I received. My “mom” died in 2002. she was 85. She will always be my mother, I will always miss her. MY dad died in 2007 I never shed a tear, although I did not hate him I did not like him either .

My Mother was the total 1950’s materialist social climbing mother who always drove me nuts, even when I was in grade school. I could not wait to get away from her. My Father was always away working, he would be gone for days at a time, and I can honestly say I never missed him. Both of them are still alive, but I can trully say I know neither of them very well.

My dad, without a doubt. He showered me with unconditional love and support; he still does, in fact. My mother shouldn’t have had kids. She was treated horribly by her mother, and passed that on to me. The older I get, the more I realize that she did the best she could with what she knew. I love her to death, and I will never give up hope that we will someday manage to make peace with each other.