My father died of cancer when I was 17. I remember the family vacations in that big 1959 Mercury Monterey, and I remember being shown how to take things apart and fix them. I remember the family times and holidays. I remember the prolonged illness and the changes it caused in my mother, as I was slipping into my rebellious years.
About this time every year I wonder how my life would be different now had my father lived. One thing’s for sure – he worked hard and sacrificed for his family and probably never got a word of direct thanks for that. So here we are approaching Father’s Day, yet another commercialized holiday. Maybe for this year, you could forget about buying a tie or a gadget for Dad, and sit down with him for a few quiet, serious moments and give him a big THANK YOU.