As we celebrate Father's Day today, my mind is focused on how much my dad meant to me. Once again I will try to pour the memories of all the good times we shared into the hole left in my heart when he passed away.
There is a huge difference between being a biological father and being a committed parent. My dad committed his whole being to being a good father to me. He was not only my friend and ally, he was my encourager, guardian and protector. Because he always demonstrated his love for me, I found it easy to trust him in making decisions early in my life.
But as good a father as he was to me, he was an even better grandfather to my four children. Only after the birth of my firstborn child did I really realize the encompassing nature of a father's love. Although he was still my father with all his wonderful traits, he became a very special person in the lives of his grandchildren. And he taught me to listen to my children and to be patient with them.
Recently my daughter shared some of her favorite memories of her grandpa. She spoke of how he would take her outside and sit in his green lawn chair, tie one end of her jump rope to the fence post and turn the other end for hours at a time so she could jump rope, just because she asked him to do it.
She remembers the first time she was allowed to ride the bus all of 60 miles to spend the summer with her grandma and grandpa without her brothers tagging along.
Her grandpa took her fishing and taught her to bait her hook and told her wonderful bedtime stories. He also gave her a pocket knife and taught her how to whittle something fun out of a stick. She also remembers going down to the creek that ran behind their house where they built a fire, cooked and ate hamburgers together.
She said, "He would let me sit next to him in the car and when grandma wasn't looking he let me steer the Chevy." Often he would take her with him to the local market, where he showed her how to "plug" a watermelon. Other times he would hide in the dark and jump out and chase her down the hall clacking his false teeth at her. She said, "We would grab each other and laugh until our sides split."
She told me, "One of the real lessons of life he taught me was to respect others no matter how different they are from me. Even when he scolded me, I always knew my grandpa loved me. No matter what I did he always showed me his love and support."
As I think about Father's Day this year I feel a sense of sadness that there aren't more fathers like mine. Today we seem to have more "deadbeat dads" than committed parents.
I am referring not only to those who are financially delinquent, but also those who are emotionally and/or physically detached from their children.
A recent report issued by the National Fatherhood Initiative states that more than half of all children not living with their father have never visited their dad's home. Five out of six don't even see their father once a week.
I am grateful that my dad not only gave me a bank full of wonderful memories of his love and support, but he did the same for his grandchildren.
Happy Father's Day, dad. We miss you.
Email Betty Heath at begeheath690@aol.com.