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Father's Day has always been a special event growing up. My dad didn't like all the fuss, but with four daughters that's what he got.

His presents were delicately gift-wrapped hats, jackets, drawings and fishing lures. He acted like each gift was gold and very precious. One of his favorite gifts was a Polaroid camera. With the photos developing instantly, he became the family photographer. Even our pets had photo sessions.

I always wished I had a brother, just for my dad. Other families had sons, but my dad just had four girls. I don't know where I got the feeling that it was better for a dad to have a boy, but it stuck with me. When I was in my 20s, I asked my dad if he ever wished he had a son. He said, "What? Heck no! Boys go off when they get married. Girls always stay close to home." Then he grinned at me and winked.

When I had my sons, my dad got to be the Grandpop of the year. Pop took them searching for worms, fishing, riding bikes and playing on the jungle gym at Cowan Field down the street from my parents' house. I was so happy he finally had boys in his life. One of his favorite outings was feeding the ducks at Easter Baptist College. Bread crusts were saved and stuffed into a Wonder Bread plastic bag for this special occasion. There was usually an argument about who carried this precious bread, but Pop negotiated shared custody. When my daughters were born, they did the exact same thing. They tagged along to dig worms, fish and feed the ducks. He looked like a papa duck with his ducklings all in a row, making the journey through the field.

I watched my husband with our sons and daughters, and he did the same thing, too. Daughters and sons were not so different after all. My daughters know all of the words to Top Gun, just like my sons. He taught both our daughters and sons to ski. A son and a daughter both went skydiving with him. My other daughter and I stayed home praying while they jumped from 10,000 feet. Our hands were sweating just thinking about them. He taught both daughters and sons to drive.

He also taught them that humor is very important in life, much like my dad taught me. Sometimes my husband will crow like a rooster for a morning wake-up call and it's the exact same rooster call my dad used. My dad sang country western songs and whistled. My husband sings songs, too, but the words never seem to match the artist's version of the songs.

My dad was famous for his knock-knock and practical jokes. We never tired of running to the door after he tapped under the table. "Come in," he'd yell. You might think we'd catch on and stop running to welcome guests. Well, we didn't. To this day if someone knocks on my door, I can hear my dad's voice, "Come in!" One of his favorites was to peek out the window, looking shocked. "What is Mrs. Joyce doing up on the roof?" he'd ask. We'd all run outside to save our favorite neighbor. He'd laugh hysterically.

I've come to learn that what makes a man a dad is simply loving a child. That love can be sprinkled on little boys and little girls. Let's face it. A father is a very special person in a child's life. A father is very important in our life as we grow older, too. A father is just plain important.

And when they go to heaven, both daughters and sons carry them in their hearts forever.

- Anne Bardsley

Anne Bardsley lives in St Petersburg, Florida, with her "wrinkle maker" of a husband and two spoiled cockatoos. She's still recovering from raising five children. She is so happy she didn't strangle them as teenagers as they've given her beautiful grandchildren. She is the author of How I Earned My Wrinkles: Musings on Marriage, Motherhood and Menopause. She blogs at www.annebardsley.com.