Wedding Dance
For years people told me that I was like my dad and I didn’t see it. As a child I was so ridiculously insecure that I often didn’t behave or speak from my authentic self . . . in fact, I cringe from the things I did as a kid and teenager—all from a place of having no clue who I was.
My dad really was amazing. He lived a servants life, always caring for those who needed it, and lived by a code of morals and dignity that many can’t. Whenever we did anything wrong, he wouldn’t raise his voice or take things personally and everyone spoke of his ‘calm’ demeanor. He built a business with integrity, being both gracious and giving to his clientele. However the thing is this . . . despite these wonderful attributes, he didn’t quite know what to do with me. I don’t remember compliments, only a reminder to be humble. Affection was something other families did or from mom’s only. At times, he seemed disinterested in me and my life, while pouring into others. I now know, having two daughters of my own and watching my husband shower them with loving words and affection, or being playful and asking them about their life, how important this is for their confidence.
I asked him a question once when he took me out to lunch. My parents were divorcing during my senior year in high school and he was just now asking me about my life. It was frustrating to me because I had spent so many years feeling unseen—feeling more like a stranger. So I asked him, “Why now? Why are you now wanting to spend time with me?”
And his answer was simple and honest, just like he was, “I didn’t know what I had until it was gone.” These vulnerable words were the starting point to unbelievable change.
We learn that parents are doing the best they can with the knowledge they have. So I put effort into understanding my father, and he started doing the same for me. We began forging our own path. In fact, I can say, I was experiencing a relationship with him that I never believed possible.
By this time, I was getting married and I’ll never forget choosing the song that my dad and I would dance to. I didn’t expect much of his dancing skills, so I figured I would just choose something fun—Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone. The night of the wedding, when our song came on, I’ll never forget the way my dad led me along that dance floor. For several years he’d been going to ballroom classes and it showed. I’d never felt so close to him in all my life than that moment. I was told later that he mentioned this as his favorite part as well.
For three years I felt connected, loved, and excited to experience this new journey with him. On November 4th 2004, twenty years ago, he died in a car accident coming home from work. Sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday.
A while ago, I tried to watch Ben and my wedding reception video and it cut off right at the father/daughter dance. I cried. I wish I could see that moment again, when he impressed me with his dance skills. Something that most people don’t equate with Steven Ingram.
However, they do equate patience, kindness, servitude, and calm. I take no offense to being like him anymore. He also gave me something invaluable. He made it so that I didn’t have to say to anyone after he passed, “I didn’t know what I had until he was gone.” I knew and know what I had and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Love,
Tessa
