“Well, hello there, my, it’s been a long, long time. How am I doing? Well, I guess I’m doing fine. But it’s been so long, but it seems like it was only yesterday. Ain’t it funny how time slips away?” – Willie Nelson, “Funny How Time Slips Away”

The weekend had been perfect, a celebration that went smoothly from event to event—bridesmaids’ luncheon, groomsmen’s luncheon, wedding rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, wedding day brunch, wedding, reception.

Before we knew it, wedding day was upon us. In a flash, it was over. The bride, our daughter Tate, described the day as a “joyful blur,” and I agree. It was a blend of surreal euphoria and intensely beautiful magic.

Tate and Jake’s wedding weekend wound to a close Sunday morning with a brunch at my brother and sister-in-law’s house. The best part of that (besides the breakfast casserole and mimosas) was the sendoff for the newlyweds leaving on their honeymoon.

After they left, our son Dan was the first to admit it, and all agreed. We were depressed. I watched football, snacked and tried to nap, but couldn’t fall asleep. We shared pictures from the weekend and scrolled through social media posts of the festivities.

Finally, that evening we gathered, each in our own pits of depression, to watch the birthday celebration concert for Willie Nelson and the happy vibe of the gala proved a much-needed lift for all our spirits.

Willie, who turned 90 this year, is a favorite of mine. I used to perform “On the Road Again” in Mrs. Bobbye Rorie’s fifth-grade classroom. I’ve been a Willie fan for most of my life, and love all his songs.

Each performance of Nelson’s music was phenomenal, however, one from another of my favorites really moved me. In fact, when Dave Matthews took the stage at the Hollywood Bowl for his rendition of Wille’s classic “Funny How Time Slips Away,” the tears started to flow once again.

I love the song and I love Dave, but it was the lyrics that turned the waterworks back on Sunday evening. It got me thinking about how fast the years have flown by, about how my little girl is now a married woman. Funny how time slips away.

At some point during the year of wedding planning, Tate asked me what song we should dance to for our father-daughter dance. In the process of trying to make that decision, I can’t tell you how many times I drove down the road crying as I sang along to some of those songs.

Early on, I Googled “top father-daughter wedding dance songs” and the list is quite extensive, ranging from upbeat to slow and everything in between. However, one song always got to me more than any other–“My Little Girl”–by Tim McGraw.

Ok, call me cheesy if you want, but each time that I hear: “Gotta hold on easy as I let you go, gonna tell you how much I love you, though you think you already know. I remember I thought you looked like an angel, wrapped in pink, so soft and warm. You’ve had me wrapped around your finger since the day you were born.”

I’m crying now as I mouth those words and write this article. I even incorporated those lyrics into my speech for the rehearsal dinner but nixed them at the last minute to avoid what would have certainly led to ugly crying.

As a side note, I started practicing my speech in the car each day after Tate and Jake got engaged in January and I never made it through without crying during those practice sessions. I didn’t make it through at the rehearsal dinner either. Jake’s father, Mark, played a slideshow of the bride and groom through the years which was all it took to bring the tears.

I was good after my toast, or so I thought. I was all smiles on wedding day up until I had my “first look” with the bride. When I turned to see Tate in her dress, I was fine. Stunned by her beauty, but fine. Then she handed me a handkerchief, which I opened to find embroidered with the words, “Dad, I’ll always be your little girl. Love, Tate 12/16/23,” at which point, you guessed it, tears.

Fortunately, at some point this year, Tate wisely decided that we needed to dance to something upbeat for our father-daughter dance. We went with Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl,” which I always sang to her as “my green-eyed girl.”

Our dance was perfect and there were no tears (ok, maybe a few at the end) and I was fine until the next evening after Tate and Jake left and Dave started singing about time slipping away.

It had. Where was the little girl wearing camo for the first time during her first trip to the hunting camp in 1997, the little girl standing beside me at the lake catching her first fish, the teenage girl with her first deer, the young girl graduating high school, then college, then grad school? She had turned into a woman and now she was married. However, no matter what, she will always be my little girl.

Until next time, here’s to making the most of each day before time slips away, and here’s to seeing you out there in our great outdoors.

Email outdoors columnist Brad Dye at braddye@comcast.net.