Unlike many of my friends, I was never a "Daddy's Girl."

I didn't really know my father as my parents divorced when I was only 5 months old.

So having a father to protect, spoil and give in to my every whim was not a part of growing up.

I didn't have a father issuing threats to boys or cleaning a shotgun while asking them when time they could expect me home.

I never pronounced "daddy" as "did-dee."

I never had those butterfly kisses moments or had a father-daughter dance.

Instead, I had my grandfather who thought the sun rose and set on my chubby little behind.

This is the man that fell once while carrying me to my crib, breaking his shoulder.

When Granny found him, he was holding me and sobbing, thinking I was hurt.

Maybe it was because he was holding me so protectively or I have just been a sound sleeper since birth, but I didn't wake up until Granny pinched my leg.

This is the man who would run off the friends who showed up at the house at 11 p.m. on a Friday night. He didn't care what their motives were - it was too late and they needed to get home.

I was secretly glad he did that, too.

Pop always called me "his Lil ‘un," or "Baby," and even when Alzheimer's caused him to forget everyone else, he still remembered me.

I grew up with an uncle who thought I should have chocolate or ice cream - and sometimes both - every day. He is a leading contributor as to why I was a fat kid.

The same uncle is the one who took me to Dairy Queen for peanut buster parfaits and bought me my first pair of silver strappy heels so I could pretend to be Olivia Newton-John.

Granted, he may have been tricked into the heels, but he still kept his word.

When I announced over breakfast I needed a lengthy list of supplies for school, he dropped off what looked like the contents of the art supply aisle for me later that morning.

And it was my uncle who walked me down the aisle when I married.

For better or worse, they are what helped make me the way I am today and are largely to blame for why I am so spoiled today.

A friend asked my mother once if she thought her daughter was missing out since the child's father was not very involved in her life.

It was a hard question for Mama to answer at first.

She had a father growing up and she knew how much her daddy loved me.

"I think a daddy is important. I do," my Mama began. "But, I also think the most important thing is for the child to be surrounded by love. As long as the child knows she is loved, that's what matters. And she will be just fine."

I am not discounting the role of fathers at all as we lean into Father's Day weekend.

There's a lot of great dads out there. I think dads don't get nearly enough credit for what they do.

And neither do the grandfathers, uncles and other men who take on that role with grace, too.
At least that's what I have seen.

I may not have been a Daddy's Girl, but, like Mama predicted, this girl turned out just fine.

Sudie Crouch is an award winning humor columnist and author of the novel, "The Dahlman Files: A Tony Dahlman Paranormal Mystery."