Published June 15, 1997 in the Ottawa Citizen

Thank you, Dad, on first Father's Day without you

I bought a Father's Day card last week, like every other year. Then I took it home and wondered what to write. How does one put into a few words an appreciation for the love and sacrifice that has spanned your lifetime, whether you're eight years old, 30 years old or even 60 or 70? Indeed, it is an extremely difficult, no, correct that, an almost impossible task. And then I asked myself, what is the meaning of Father's Day? Shouldn't we be appreciative of our fathers every day?

So I thought back to my childhood on how my father was there every step of the way with his guiding hand and love to help me along and whenever I succeeded he would smile with great pride and say, "That's my boy!'' And when I stumbled and learned how not to succeed (ie: fail) he would smile and with great pride say, "Don't worry son, it'll be all right, just you wait and see.'' He taught me how to tie my shoes, how to ride a bike, shoot a hockey puck, and throw a baseball. He taught me to respect my elders, work alongside others in a team, to be courteous to others, regardless of, as he called it, "their station in life.''

In my teens I remember him showing me how to tie a Windsor knot, how he counselled me on drugs and alcohol as I went off to high school. He showed me how to save money (I'm still learning this one), taught me the value of a dollar, and what it meant to work, and work hard. When a girl broke my heart, he was there to say, "Don't worry, son. It'll be all right, just you wait and see.'' He was always there during those challenging years.

Now as an adult, I can remember him being there during university, when I would be calling home to say hello, letting him know how school was going, and more often than not, asking for a little extra cash. More often than not, he usually offered a little extra "spending money'' before I asked. It had to have been something in my voice. As I entered the work world and told him of my different career advancements, I could here him on the other end of the line, sensing his smile and reading his thoughts, he was saying, "That's my boy!'' And when I got married just under two years ago, he was there in the wedding party proudly saying, you guessed it, "That's my boy!''

But this sentimental picture took a turn for the worst last fall. My father suffered a minor stroke due to a malignant brain tumour and after surgery and a round of radiation therapy, he was mercifully taken from this earth in December. As I delivered his eulogy and struggled to keep it together, I could hear him from the other side, speaking softly in my head saying, "Don't worry son, it'll be all right, just you wait and see.'' And now as I face my first Father's Day without him, I have truly finally learned the meaning of Father's Day. Oh yes, we should learn to appreciate our fathers at all times, but life has a way of distracting us from what is truly important and if Father's Day (or Mother's Day for that matter) helps us regain this all-too-important focus, then we're better for it.

This little trip down memory has shown me what to write in his card. Simply put, I'll write, "Thank you, Dad. I'm your boy, and it'll be all right, just you wait and see.'' Then I'll place it beside his picture and smile. Happy Father's Day, everyone.

= = = = =

Published June 17, 2011 in the Ottawa Citizen

Life Lessons from my Father

Back on Father's Day in 1997, 14 years ago tomorrow, a column on the meaning of my father's impact on my life appeared on this page.

That piece was written just six months after dad passed away from a valiant, two-month struggle with a malignant brain tumour which ended on Dec. 4, 1996. Shock, grief and loss were predominant in my mind and too often overtook my mood, both when I was alone and with others. How could the biggest and most influential male figure in my life be taken from me, my mom, my wife and his friends so suddenly at his tender age of 66? It was unfair, it was cruel, it was wrong! It was also, as the monotheistic religions teach us, the end of his mortal toil on Earth and the start of his spirit's ascension through eternity.

Thankfully the passage of all those years has ensured that my thoughts and memories of dad are positive, filled with joy and grateful for the exemplar he was, the values he instilled, and the lessons he taught. Over this same period, whenever I've changed jobs and careers (sometimes very publicly), faced difficult choices or simply looked for closure on key periods in my life, without fail, it has been my father's values, actions and words that have overwhelmingly informed these decisions.

For a man who didn't finish highschool, lost his own parents in his teens, and our family that never owned a home and sporadically had access to an automobile, he (and my mom) made sure that I, as their only son, always had a roof over my head, clothes on my back and was able to finish high school and get a university degree. He sheltered us and in his love we forever found refuge from and sanctuary away from whatever trivial or traumatic assault that life would bring our way.

From riding a bike when I was four, learning to play chess by age six (and beating dad consistently by age eight) through to middleschool, high-school and university academic and athletic achievement, he would always be there, would beam with pride and say, "That's my boy!" And with a combinatorial tonality of pride, possession and positivity that can only come from one's father.

This saying "that's my boy" and habit -the simple but vital act of just being there -are probably the two greatest gifts dad gave me. For life is about showing up ... with integrity, commitment and effort even in our darkest hours if for nothing else and not even ourselves, for our children.

Another saying and indeed life lesson, which was imprinted onto me by my father, was inspired by Paul's first epistle to the Corinthians (1 Cor 10: 12) where, to grossly paraphrase, King Solomon's sages advised him that, "this too shall pass." For my dad's purposes, he was more literal and would always tell me whenever I fell short of a goal, lost a basketball or soccer game, failed at something or just needed encouragement, he would say "don't worry son, it'll be all right, just you wait and see."

Of course he was right, oh so right, as fathers usually are. Note to my son, please read, re-read and commit this sentence to heart and memory (but I jokingly digress).

As I continue to defy, in the spirit of Sisyphus, the onset of my own mid-life as I turn 45 next month, I wonder what my dad would say about the man I've become or what he would say to a grandson who was born after he died. Indeed, this question arises each time I look at dad's picture on my office desk or pass his photo on our wall of memories at home.

If he could speak to me today, I hope he would say, "that's my boy" and then add, when it came to his grandson, "and that's my boy's boy" with that eternal smile that was dwarfed only by his infinite and giving heart.

Unrelenting sadness grips me inside knowing that I will never hear those words or voice again on this Earth. Yet this internal agony vanishes instantly when I look at the other photos on my desk and wall at home: pictures of the young man who calls me, dad. Such is the serenity I find on Father's Day.