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 more than a dozen years ago, I still think of him, and even though he’s not here, I say “Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”
I remember the Father’s Days I missed with my kids. I missed those days because of my deployments or 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, and she has done remarkably well also, celebrating with her husband his Father’s Day with two great grand kids, Bradley, 4 and Emily, 7..
I think about the Dads out there, serving in our Military around the world, missing this day with their families. I think about how those children remember their Dad and how brave he is to fight in a war that eventually provides freedom of choice to others.
Remember your Father. 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 appropriate:
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 My Lord, he’s hopelessly out of date.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.