This morning I was sitting quietly taking advantage of the quiet time when our daughter came running down the steps, across the room, jumped in the chair with me, and squeezed me tight. She lovingly wished me a Happy Father’s Day. Yes, today is the day when many children reach out to their dads with thanks, or take a moment to remember the dads who are no longer with us. The nice thing is that while the words don’t happen every morning, the hugs, at least for now, still occur every day. I am not sure how long these will last, hint hint teen years, but I will take them as long as she gives them.
Prior to the nice hug, I had time to sit in silence and think about Father’s Day and what makes a dad. FB is full of comments stating that anyone can be a father, but it takes a special man to be a dad. This saddens me because judgements are being made about people without knowing them. Yes. There are a number of men who father a child and then walk away. They want nothing to do with the child. The words I have for them, I will not post here. There are also men who want to be part of their children’s lives but cannot. I feel for those men today.
So what makes a good dad? I don’t know. No manual comes with a baby that tells you what to do. We are all doing this by the seat of our pants. Yes, if you go to any book store, there are a number of books on parenting and how to raise a child. I found two problems with these books. The first is that they disagree with each other. The second is time. Who, once a child enters the home, has time to sit down and read all of these books? I really feel that parenting comes from using the examples and mentors in your life to show what to do and what not to do. I also think that common sense is a big player when it comes to parenting. Finally, time. I notice that when people tell me that I am a good dad, it has nothing to do with what I am providing for my child, but the fact that I give my time.
I also think that I am lucky in the fact that I am an older parent. I had the chance to watch my friends raise children. I watched as their children grew into some great adults. I made mental notes as to what they did and how they did it. I also had the chance to mentor young people before having my own. This helped me a lot since you are not allowed to spank another person’s child. I had to learn to get my point across without hitting and yelling. This took time and patience. I now know how to do that with our daughter. I am able to take all of those experiences and roll them together into being a parent. Even with all of that information, I still screw it up and screw it up often. I am fortunate that our daughter doesn’t seem to care. She still trusts and loves me.
Mostly I pull from those who raised me. I, along with a number of my friends, were fortunate. We all belonged to a Drum and Bugle Corp as we went through our pre-teen and teen years. This group had a large number of adults who really cared about each and every child in the group. These parents all had the titles of mom and dad. They all acted as parents to us. I did not have one dad; I had ten. I remember spending time at my friends’ homes and never feeling like a guest. I was one of the family in each house, and my friends were siblings in our house. I had many different examples of parenting to pull from and quite often pull from different dads based on what is happening. Each and every one of those dads are rolled up inside of me today.
But in the end, I am the person I am today because of my parents. All of the other parents helped to shape and mold me, but my parents were the first to start the sculpting process. So most of my fathering style comes from my dad. I believe that he did not follow the style of parenting back in the 60s and 70s. My dad was a man who believed in family above all other things. He spent time with his boys. He believed in teaching us what a man was and how a man treated a woman. He showed by example of what it means to take care of a family. He brought joy into our lives. Unfortunately, our time together was very short. However, he taught me so much in those 14 years.
My dad taught me that you have to let children follow their own path. We often talked about 
what I wanted to do with my life. He never once said to me that I should be this or I should think about that. He wanted to know my dreams and encouraged me to go after them. I still remember him bringing home an old IBM electric typewriter from work. I would sit and type stories on it, and he would read them. What I think I liked most is that he didn’t pull the parent response. He didn’t gush over a story. Instead, we talked about my writing. He told me what he liked. He asked me about what I could change. He found ways for me to try to be better without destroying my want and love for writing.
My dad defended us when he had to, but he also expected us to do right. If a parent or teacher approached my dad about something one of us had done, he would get the facts from both parties. If we were in the wrong, we knew that we would have to sort it out. However, if we had done nothing wrong, we could see the grizzly bear come out. I can still remember my dad taking on the school when he found out how my brother’s third grade teacher was treating him. There was no way a teacher could justify pulling the hair of a third grade student. My dad knew it and defended my brother to the end.
We learned to love from this man by his actions. His love for us was always there and visible for the world. He showed us that my mom was his equal in the relationship. They worked together to make a family. I cannot remember him ever saying a derogatory remark about her or any other woman. He worked midnights so that he could be with us during the days. He also taught us to love our community as he volunteered with the fire department and then started a youth group. My dad taught us that love is not limited to family. I truly believe that he loved each and every kid that came through that group. He wanted them all to succeed just as much as he wanted it for us.
He gave us experiences instead of bunch of toys to be tossed away (though our toy box was full). We went camping. We went fishing. We made memories that have lasted over 50 years. To this day, some of my favorite memories are when he would take me to work midnights with him. He was a yardmaster for the railroad. He worked high in a tower overlooking the railyard. My toy trains were big 200 ton (according to a website) diesel locomotives. I would spend the nights up in the tower helping to put trains together or down in the engines running around the yard. My dad found a way to give time and memories.
I will also admit that my dad was not perfect. He was not a superhero. I knew this, and I knew it early on. I watched along with my brothers as he had his first heart attack. I went through the fear of being a young kid and seeing my dad fall. Fortunately, we were at a firemen’s event and help was there on the spot. Just the same, dads weren’t supposed to fall; he did. I think too often we expect dads to be invincible and then do not know how to deal with the fact that they are human. I learned that early on. I watched as he dealt with open-heart surgeries. I saw him struggle with what would happen with us if he didn’t make it. Perhaps the fact that I saw the impurities made him that much more of a dad to me. I am sure he hid a lot from us, but he made sure that we knew that he had struggles. In the end, the struggles became too much for him.
The day after my last final of ninth grade, a week after he went into the hospital after another heart attack, two days before my oldest brother’s graduation, the call came to inform us that we no longer had a dad. He fought it as long as he could, but in the end it was too much for his heart – June 19, 1980. Since this day falls around Father’s Day each year, I often wonder what I would say to him today if I had one more chance to see him.
Dad.
Thank you. Thank you for everything you did in those short years we were together. You were my rock, my mentor, my dad. You and mom worked together to make me the man I am today. Each and every day I think of you. I miss you. I love you.
While the pain of losing you has subsided, there has always been a void in my heart. I know that you have been with me through every up and down my life has taken. I know that you were with me when I left for the military. I felt you next to me at the alter when my beautiful wife walked down the aisle. I could see you standing next to the crib in the hospital on the day our daughter was born. You are there and will always be there.
I wish your grand-daughter had a chance to meet you. I so wish she could have known the man you were. We talk about you often. She knows a lot about you, but never has had the chance to hold you, hug you. This is the loss I know hurts the most.
Most of all, know that mom has never stopped loving you. She worked hard to become both mother and father to us. I believe she did you proud.
I work to live up to the example that you set for me and my brothers. I hope that we are half the men that you were.
I will carry you in my heart until the day that we get to meet again.
Love,
Your son