Honoring all the dads that have made such a difference in their families’ lives | Opinion

I know I am a week late in saying this, but Happy Belated Father’s Day to all the fathers out there.

I really wanted to wish you a happy day last week, but last Sunday was a very important anniversary for me — my 54th anniversary as a journalist at the Miami Herald. Anyway, I wrestled with the two ideas. My anniversary won.

So now, dear fathers, it is your turn to be remembered by me. Actually, I see reasons to celebrate you every day, not just on Father’s Day. Some of you dads are always doing something to make me proud. I love the way you celebrate your children and grandchildren. I love how you are an ever-present help to your family and to anyone else who needs you.

My brother Adam is such a dad. Just recently, Adam, who is three years my junior, acted like a loving father to me when he helped me through a sticky financial situation. But he doesn’t just put on his “dad’s shoes” when there is a financial crisis in my life.

In 2020, when I had knee-replacement surgery, my brother drove down from Melbourne in Central Florida and took care of me for a month until he was sure I was able to move about on my own.

Then, there is my loving son Shawn, who calls me his hero, and often lets me know by doing something to demonstrate his love for me. And my godson Troy Duffie, who periodically takes me on a breakfast date, or helps his wife Cecily sponsor me on a family trip somewhere. These are just a few of the great dads that I know, who always find the time to think of me in some special way.

Sometimes I am amazed at how God uses the dads in my life and how they’re beacons of light for future dads. By their compassionate and random acts of kindness, they are setting the bar a bit higher for the dads who follow them.

My brother Adam and I grew up without our dad. Yet, as young adults, we worked hard to have a relationship with him. I remember one Father’s Day when our children were young, my brother and I decided to visit Dad in Eatonville in Central Florida and take him and his wife Susie to lunch.

I drove to Cocoa Beach, where Adam and his wife Va, and two of their three children lived at the time. We left early the next morning — Father’s Day — for the drive to Eatonville.

Dad was happy to see us. But it was both an awkward and touching time. At lunch, Dad kept his eyes cast downward for most of the time. He didn’t say much, but I think he was trying to keep us from seeing the tears in his eyes.

I wondered if they were tears of regret. I wondered if he was thinking about all the years we had lost; all the birthdays and graduations and weddings he had missed by not being in our life.

The thought made me a bit sad. We couldn’t undo the past. We couldn’t bring back the lost days. But we were there now. And we wanted him to know all was forgiven. We just wanted our dad back. I am thankful that we mended our relationship before he died in 1999.

One of the things I loved about our mom was her forgiving spirit. She never tried to turn us against our dad. She had moved on with her life and the Lord had blessed her with two children — me and Adam, who loved and appreciated her. So, it was with her blessings that we sorted out a relationship with Dad.

My brother grew up without our dad for a role model. Yet, the Lord placed other men in his life as surrogate dads, who loved him like their biological children.

My brother grew up to become a great father. His children and grandchildren love him and respect him. Now that he is an elderly man, they can’t seem to do enough for him. It pleases me to see how they dote on him. And it tickles me when he tries to shake off their attention with an I-can-do-it-myself attitude.

I have never asked my brother — but I wonder if our dad not being in the picture when we were growing up is the reason he is such a great dad.

Last Sunday, my church honored all our fathers, with special attention to those who were 60 years and older. It was a touching, yet jubilant service.

I sat a couple of pews behind the honorees, who were seated together in the first three pews. I looked at the outline of each head. A couple of the men had served our country in the Armed Forces. The oldest of the bunch, Deacon Marshall Freeman, was a Vietnam veteran, like my brother.

Another, Deacon Milton Swift, is the devoted dad to a severely autistic son. He and his wife Linda take turns being in the sanctuary because the music and the mass of people affects their son’s behavior. On Sunday, it was his wife’s turn to sit with their son in the church’s headquarters next door to the

sanctuary, where she watched the service live, via closed-circuit television.

As I thought about the kind of dad Milton is, I can’t say that he has ever seemed discouraged or tired of his duties as a dad to a son who is severely disabled. It always touches me to see how gentle and patient he is with their son, who is now 17, and is as tall as his dad.

There are so many more dads that I could mention, but there isn’t enough space. So many of you could rightfully wear the “Father of the Year” banner. You know who you are.

So, just let me simply say, “Thank you, and Happy Belated Father’s Day!”