When I think of my Dad, there is a picture that often comes to mind.  As a child I remember looking up at him working in the yard, his sleeves rolled up and sweat on his brow.  And I thought: no one was as strong, no one was as tall, and no one was as noble as he.

My Dad was my lifeline.  As a child, I feared the loss of my parents and that I would be left to face this world alone: no experience, no wisdom, no security.  When I became a young adult and moved out of the house, I kept that lifeline within reach.  Once my wife and I were married and started a family of our own, I knew I could reach out to that lifeline if I needed to.  And when Mom passed away, I still had Dad: my lifeline.

For the past several years, Dad and I have spent a great deal of time together; time I would not trade for anything in this world.  You see, in many ways my Dad was still my lifeline, and in many ways I was his.  Whenever I was troubled, I could talk with him and he would advise me and pray with me.  When I was ill, he would sit by my side.  When he became dependent on me for certain tasks and he would tell me, “Tom, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I still looked to him for his consistency in faith and love; he was still my lifeline.

That last Monday night I sat on his bed at his side and we discussed what we had many times.  “Dad, I need to know, between you and me.  If your heart and/or your lungs stop functioning, what do you want me to do?”  With resolve, he looked into my eyes and said, “Tom, I’m ready to go.”  So when the moment came and the room filled with medical staff and all eyes were on me for a decision, I realized that I had to let go.  By holding on to the lifeline, I would be holding him back.  So I took hold of his hand, told him I loved him and let go of the lifeline.

He was my example, my mentor, my friend, my father and he is still the tallest and most noble man I have ever had the privilege of knowing; and I get to call him my Dad.

… Tom

Father’s Day was Sunday and we didn’t even give my Dad a card or buy his lunch.  I wanted to, but I couldn’t.  You see, Sunday was my first Father’s Day without my Dad.  And I thought of him throughout the day.

He was a man of simple needs and simple means, yet a man of unwavering faith.  When faced with a crisis, he would make a choice and then move on with life.  He wouldn’t look back and regret; instead he would look forward and grow.

He was a good father because he chose to be.  In spite of the fact that growing up he didn’t have a father example, he became an example father to many.

He was a good father because he loved his children and their mother.  When we were in need, he was there – quietly, consistently, faithfully.  He would sit with us, listen with us, enjoy life with us, share sorrows with us, and pray with us … he was my hero.

And there is so much more to say …

… Tom

There was a time, when I was a young father, that I was so enjoying my children that I thought, “This is the best age!  I wish they could stay this age forever.”  It was the “cute” stage where they were still learning to pronounce their words correctly.  For example, on a drive through the back roads of Chino they might say, “What’s it ‘mell like, Daddy?” or “Can we watch Mag-a-num PI when we get home?”  But time does not stand still….

And then they reached the “questioning” age.  This is such a great time for parents because then you get to make up all these creative answers and see what you can get away with.  “Why is the sky blue, Daddy?”  “It’s because there’s this big blue ball around our world, like the ball your hamster runs around in.”  I don’t know about your children, but mine never accepted my first answers.  “Come on, Daddy, what’s the real reason?”  And then I would remember my previous thought when they were younger and I’d think to myself, “No, this is the best age!  I wish they could stay this age forever.”

The thought of a child becoming a teenager sometimes strikes fear in the heart of a parent.  But when we reached that point, I so enjoyed the time we spent together.  I saw my children struggling to become the independent people we were raising them to be.  And truly, at this point, I once again thought to myself, “No, this is the best age!”

And now my children are adults and we relate to each other on a totally different level.  They have developed their own understanding of the world around them.  They have taken ownership of their lives.  They have made their Faith their own.

And once again I find myself thinking, “No, this is the best age!”

… Tom