I've been blowing hot and cold for the past few days about writing this particular blog post. You see, even though I'm a father and step-father, my own father has been gone for the majority of my adult life, 36 years now. And for the first time that I can remember, I'm really missing him this Father's Day.
My dad passed away from cancer when I was 28 in 1978. He was young, I believe (blame a faulty memory) only 48 years old. I remember we got the diagnosis in October 1977; by March, he was gone.
From the time I was 18 and going forward, we had little interaction. I was away at school, then marriage and my own sons followed. I do remember the joy he had at seeing his grandsons. So, my real, now vague, memories of him are during those first 18 years of my life.
My dad was the best, yes, a strict parent, but also tolerant. He provided for us, took care of us and managed to see me and my two sisters through all the activities we engaged in. I remember his misgivings when I told him I was going to law school, but how proud he was when I graduated. In high school, during football season, my sister and I (we were both in the marching band) would find him waiting patiently in our Rambler station wagon for us to return from the away games, no matter how late it was.
He was a great dad and I still love him deeply and wish he hadn't left us so soon. Happy Father's Day, Dad.
My dad passed away from cancer when I was 28 in 1978. He was young, I believe (blame a faulty memory) only 48 years old. I remember we got the diagnosis in October 1977; by March, he was gone.
From the time I was 18 and going forward, we had little interaction. I was away at school, then marriage and my own sons followed. I do remember the joy he had at seeing his grandsons. So, my real, now vague, memories of him are during those first 18 years of my life.
My dad was the best, yes, a strict parent, but also tolerant. He provided for us, took care of us and managed to see me and my two sisters through all the activities we engaged in. I remember his misgivings when I told him I was going to law school, but how proud he was when I graduated. In high school, during football season, my sister and I (we were both in the marching band) would find him waiting patiently in our Rambler station wagon for us to return from the away games, no matter how late it was.
He was a great dad and I still love him deeply and wish he hadn't left us so soon. Happy Father's Day, Dad.
