In honor of Father’s Day, we’d like to dedicate this space to honoring our dads, the first men we ever loved with all our hearts. Happy Father’s Day to all of our dads from MomsGetReal™.
Lessons From Dad by Wanda Morrissey
The things I learned from Dad:
1. Don’t take life too seriously. From Dad I learned how to laugh at myself and at life. We share an offbeat sense of humour.
2. How to stand up for myself. Dad always said that there was no one person better than another, no matter what they thought. He always told me not to let anyone push me around.
3. To question authority. He didn’t advocate anarchy or anything like that but he believed that just because someone was in a position of power, it didn’t make them always right. Don’t be afraid to question and don’t be afraid to say ‘no’ if you don’t agree.
4. A great work ethic. My father always worked hard. He believed in going to work and taking pride in a job well done no matter what it was.
5. Unconditional love. I think this one is the most important. No matter what I know that Dad loves me.
Without even trying Dad was a great teacher. I learnt a lot from him and consider myself lucky to have such a great father. I love you, Dad!
Dad’s Song Sustains Me by Belinda Hulin
Long before my father became a bona fide, PhD-bearing mathematician, he dreamed of being a country music star. A famous country songwriter, to be exact. Unfortunately for my mother—who abhors anything depressing—Daddy’s tastes ran to the low-down, wrung-out, homesick-blues end of the genre. Hank Williams was his idol and every New Year’s Eve of my childhood, we had a musical wake in homage to the troubled genius’ premature death.
But my father did write a few happy songs, and a couple that were downright touching. One was a song he wrote for my mother, which he sang lovingly whether she was in the room or not. The other was a lullaby he wrote for me. His baritone voice singing me to sleep is one of the most comforting memories of my childhood. He sang:
My beautiful baby Belinda My beautiful brown eyed doll Your Daddy’s eyes Your Mama’s smile Go to sleep and dream awhile…Decades later, when my first marriage ended, my parents came to visit and comfort me. When they left, I found that he had typed the lyrics to the song, printed it out and taped it to my refrigerator. It was his way of reminding me that I was loved, that I’d always been loved, and that I was a part of a family that would not go away. I had the paper laminated, and even now, years after my father joined his idol Hank in the firmament, I glimpse the lyrics on my refrigerator and know I’ll be just fine.
Laughter, Words, and Trees, in Honor of Father’s Day by Lisa Van De Graaff
It was my father who taught me forgiveness and compassion – He always forgave family members for poor choices, and he found humor in their (as well as his own) idiosyncrasies. These idiosyncrasies were often fodder for funny stories, and it was while listening to my father and my father’s siblings tell these stories that I learned the healing power of the belly laugh.
My father treasures the outdoors and passed this passion along to his children. He taught me and my brother to camp and hike and fish, and I often wish I had paid closer attention as he tried again and again to teach me to identify coniferous trees by their needles, bark, and cones. It was while camping and listening to campfire conversations that I learned the art of embellishment (stories my father and I tell get better and better with each telling). This talent for the tall tale certainly lends itself to his talents as a writer and a poet, and I’ve spent hours reading and rereading his work. I’ve always hoped to follow in his literary footsteps, and perhaps blogging is a step in that direction.
While my father undoubtedly loves me unconditionally and would forgive any transgression, it is he, more than anyone else in the world, that I want to make proud. I’m certainly proud to be his daughter. I love you, Daddy.
Strong and Steady by Elizabeth Aguirre Sanchez
My mother always made sure that we kids always knew how great my father is. He is the “strong and steady” in her life, and the foundation of strength in mine. He taught me how to play sports and let me stick with soccer despite the openly aggressive resistance from the women in his traditional Mexican family.
He was so well-respected in our hometown that my sisters and I were referred to as “Don Mario’s daughters.” He taught me how to pray, how to shoot a layup, how to slide tackle, how to properly make frijoles de la olla and how to love somebody with everything you have. (Seriously, the way he looks at my mom after 29 years of marriage is how I imagine Romeo looked at Juliet when he watched her on her balcony.) Most importantly, he is my second biggest cheerleader (mom is No. 1) and teaches me every day that the most important thing is to keep giving it all you have, because life is worth it.
My Dad, My Hero by Shadra Bruce
I’m the oldest of three and came along before my dad was even all the way grown up; he was 19 when I was born and still newly married to my mom. Dad was quiet – a trait that continued throughout my childhood as he was overrun by an all-female household. When I was very young and it was just mom, dad, and me, we would pack ourselves up in dad’s yellow Chevy luv pickup and go exploring the hills of Nevada, some of my fondest moments.
I’ve always looked up to my dad. Somehow, his quiet strength sustained me during the more tumultuous times in my life; I always knew that no matter what bad men there were in the world, my dad was not one of them and that he would be there to shield me from the worst of everything. Without him, I would not have recognized love when I found it with Dave. Father’s Day gives us all the chance to honor the men in our lives who cared and stayed and loved and protected us and prioritized us. I am proud of my Dad and am grateful to have a way to honor him here. Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!!
Father’s Day for Him by Veronica Ibarra
Father’s Day is probably the most difficult day to get worked up about for me. It isn’t exactly a sad day or a bad day, just not one I’m used to distinguishing from any other. My father died when I was seven. I have some memories of him, but he was an active Marine so we were used to him being gone for long stretches of time. Then after his death Father’s Day just fell off our radar.
I had uncles and one living grandfather, but they all lived far away. Other than signing a card Mom would send from all of us, there was no fanfare to Father’s Day. No need to worry about what Dad would like or want, and any crafty thing I made at school I made for my mom.
When I met and married my husband, Father’s Day became something I would remind him about so he could call his own father, but beyond that it remained a day I didn’t think too much about until the birth of our daughter. Suddenly Father’s Day had significance in my life again, but my husband doesn’t make it easy. Other than calling his own father he likes to pretend it’s just another day.
My husband prefers to treat every day as just another day. Holidays or special recognition days are just too much ado. At least, that’s what he says. But every time I get him a little gift or the kids make him a craft or we all make him a card, I see the smile and that gleam in his eyes. It matters. Now I force myself to remember this day every year, not for me or the kids, but for him. He is a father, and a good one.
