I watch with interest and envy the many people who post on Facebook photos and wishes to their fathers on social media. Be assured, your fathers can't tell you how much it means to be remembered, to be loved.
As one who has lost both parents, I urge you to make sure you never fail to take advantage of every possibility to stay close to your parents. There will come a time when you won't be able to. So your wishes to the living are somewhat somber for me too because I can't do the same for my parents.
Father's Day means more to me each year as I anticipate and treasure hearing my children's voices. I am not fortunate enough to live close to them where we can be in more contact, but I treasure them and their mates and children in ways words can't describe. I'm more aware of the influence of our genes and our choices, and thankful.
Dad, like me for sure, was a flawed person, but he did the best he could, with a wooden leg, an artistic temperament, and an uneven life. But he came a long way from a poor red-dirt boy from Comanche, Oklahoma, and like everyone, had lots of good in him. I see my own self and individuality in him, and in my brother's face, and in our mannerisms, even our laughs. I am astounded at the power and influence of genes.
|Dad and I at my brother Jerry's college graduation|
PS: Earlier story: My Dad had a wooden leg.
|Genes--Dad with my firstborn, Vance|