This is a slightly edited version of the post I wrote in memory of my Father in 2006. The sentiments remain the same today.
Today is Father’s Day.
I remember Father’ s day with the occasional picnic, and always giving my Dad a tie or a picture I drew in school. It seemed the thing to do, a picture or a tie. My Father passed away about 18 years ago, I think of him often, and every Father’s Day I still say “Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”
I remember the many Father’s Days I missed with my kids because of my deployments of other military related duties that would take me away from home. I can only say that those sacrifices really were worth it. I have 2 GREAT kids, both adults now. My Son has his own business and is doing well with that and other interests also. My Daughter is now a Mommy with two kids that are a real joy. She has done remarkably well and is now celebrating and creating Father’s Day memories with her with her husband.
I also think about all those Dads out there fighting this War on Terror. I think about each one as I go through my daily job. I think about how those children will remember Dad and how brave he was to fight in a war that will give freedom of choice to others.
So, remember your Father, not only today, but every day. Remember the Fathers that cannot be home to share the joy today. Remember to say “Happy Father’s Day, Dad!”
Here is a poem I found that talks about Dad. Since he passed, I think of him often, and I thought this poem approriate:
When I was:
Four years old: My daddy can do anything.
Five years old: My daddy knows a whole lot.
Six years old: My dad is smarter than your dad.
Eight years old: My dad doesn’t know exactly everything.
Ten years old: In the olden days, when my dad grew up, things were sure different.
Twelve years old: Oh, well, naturally, Dad doesn’t know anything about that. He is too old to remember his childhood.
Fourteen years old: Don’t pay any attention to my dad. He is so old-fashioned.
Twenty-one years old: Him? My Lord, he’s hopelessly out of date.
Twenty-five years old: Dad knows about it, but then he should, because he has been around so long.
Thirty years old: Maybe we should ask Dad what he thinks. After all, he’s had a lot of experience.
Thirty-five years old: I’m not doing a single thing until I talk to Dad.
Forty years old: I wonder how Dad would have handled it. He was so wise.
Fifty years old: I’d give anything if Dad were here now so I could talk this over with him.
Too bad I didn’t appreciate how smart he was. I could have learned a lot from him.