To Dad, on Father's Day and Always

This morning I tried multiple times (as in, more than 12) to write a Facebook post which, along with honoring my dad this Father's Day, was to include candid photos of some of his recent fathering and grandfathering moments. I was thwarted by some kind of technical difficulty, and then it occurred to me: With whom could I possibly consult about a computer use glitch on Father's Day when my go to person for glitches of all kinds is my father himself?

If you'd been at my home yesterday, you'd have found him tinkering with a problematic smoke detector for me. And anyone who knows my sense of direction would not be surprised to know that I have called my father from the roadside, completely lost, on more than one occasion when maps have ceased to make any sense to me anymore. Some people talk about a parent who helped them find their way-- in my case, that's been literal.

But it would be a disservice to my dad to say he has only been my Fixer and Problem-solver, my Advice-giver Extraordinaire. He has been so many other things to me over the years-- a role model in what it means to be both a family member and a professional, a teacher of everything music to manners, from chess to word processing to resume-writing. He has also been the person who, during a fateful grocery shopping trip when I was a kid, came up with easily over a hundred food puns, with me answering each with a pun of my own. Were we completely obnoxious to everyone around us? No doubt. But I'll remember it, fondly and happily, forever.

I could go on and on, of course. The time I had trouble with balance as a kindergartener, and my dad built a balance beam for me. The time he covered the basement floor with a smooth surface I could dance on during my teens.

And what's really cool is, if you have a terrific father and then you have children, great fathers become even more fabulous granfathers! They use silly voices and teach you guitar and make elaborate whip cream designs on your desserts.

Which brings me back to the story of yesterday. I'd like to say that Dad's coming to my smoke detector rescue was an aside during a large-scale Father's Day extravaganza he was attending. Instead, he drove an hour to my home, then another 40 minutes to another destination, to contribute to the celebration of my daughter's 8th birthday. My daughter's second cousins (twins who share her birthdate!) were part of the celebration, too. At a very kid-centered lakeside celebration my cousin Carolyn referred to as "like Christmas with life jackets", Father's Day weekend was barely on the radar.

As it started to get dark, my father and mother packed to leave, and I sprinted over with two rapidly-signed Father's Day cards from my daughter and me. Then my dad, who had made this day, like so many other days, about his kids and his grand-kids, drove away.

How do you say Happy Father's Day to someone who has been and done so much for so long? When life is hectic, but time is short for saying even some small part of how much someone matters to you and has made such a difference, for you and the children you love?

Dad, I hope you know, today and always, what's in my heart. And that the words... on Father's Day cards, attempted Facebook posts, and even this blog post-- are not the half of it.

Celebrating YOU today, Dad, and appreciating you always.