If you’re lucky enough to have a father, congratulations, and show him love.  If your father is no longer alive, then cherish his memory with love. And if you never knew your father or worse, never received love from him, then move on and live life to its fullest. Relax; this isn’t a mushy lecture from some feel – good guru, no, far from it.  It’s simply a brief story from your humble blog writer that simply flows from my heart to my pen.

My father is ailing, having suffered a devastating illness recently, an illness that has changed his once – vibrant life dramatically. Thankfully, he still owns his bright mind and speech, so I called him today on father’s day and we reminisced a little, told a few jokes, and I gave him my support and hope during this difficult time.  Thankfully, just before I told him goodbye after my recent travel to visit him, I left him a flask of his favorite scotch, which I labeled  “cough medicine”.  I’m positive that will easily trick the nurses.  Wink Wink.  Funny, I noticed he started coughing immediately after I left his room and could hear his sudden coughs all the way down the hall. I just couldn’t help but burst out laughing. I told him to save the scotch for father’s day, today, so we will both have a toast today despite the miles, to celebrate.  So before I hung up some hours ago, I said I love you.  That’s what he needed, certainly not checkered ties, socks or the latest power tool advertised on TV.

You see, I know what it’s like to be a father because I used to be one too, or I guess I still am in the biologic sort of way.  My children are gone, their young souls taken by a skillful being who displays an engaging smile and friendly countenance to those she wants to influence, then, while the victim is hopelessly hypnotized, she stabs them brutally when they turn away from her fishbowl view of life. Unfortunately, I believe the three of them have now become one, wherever they are. I think about the children I lost frequently, but in order to survive daily life I don’t let it overwhelm my soul.  The memories refuse to be erased, and are easily retrievable when I need them, or when someone’s face brings back their images.  I remember the baseball games, playing catch, and teaching base – running and hitting.  Then there was the swimming lessons in the summer where I helped them overcome their fear, and the nights I taught them to read before their first grade teacher even advanced the lesson beyond the alphabet.  I taught them to put the worm the right way on the hook, and took joy in their surprised faces when they landed the fighting bass.  But most importantly, I still feel my heart bleed with their failures, while savoring the sweet taste of elation from their successes, like riding a bike without training wheels for the first time.

So, father’s day is a bittersweet 24 hour ordeal for me; a day to show my love for my dad, but also a day that injects painful memories of the lost children I loved.  I wish them the best in life, wherever they are, but for too long now, I can no longer protect them with my strength and knowledge, or show them life’s reality.  No, I don’t want sympathy, not at all.  I love life, and the people around me who genuinely care.  They are my heroes and angels, and without question, I’m a lucky man with many blessings showered upon me by God, and I’m fortunate to still be living on this beautiful earth, helping people with my God – given skills.  Of course, I’ve made many stupid mistakes in my life, endured devastating failures, but also I’ve enjoyed remarkable successes.  The result is that I’ve done my best in this life, and this lucky man finally understands that nothing on this earth matters but love.  Nothing.

So dad, cheers and down the hatch.  I’m with ya.

SRC