Yesterday, my father, brother, and I celebrated my dad’s 32nd Father’s Day. And while, as I’m sure is true with every father and son (who are being honest), we don’t get along all the time, I do always know–and never forget–the lengths to which my dad went to make sure I had as normal a life as possible. All the times he spoke up on my behalf, when I couldn’t speak for myself. The chance he took with an experimental surgery. The time we spent together in that California hospital room. He slept in a chair at the side of my bed, if I remember correctly.
Now the years have done their dance on and around us (That’s true of all of us, isn’t it?). I grew up. He grew hair in his ears (Sorry, Dad. I had to get one little dig in, or I wouldn’t be your son). We love to watch baseball and football together. All the games of both sports. If we can catch a broadcast by the great Vin Scully, we won’t ever pass up the opportunity to hear: “It’s time for Dodger baseball”, but we are true Seattle sports fans (go hawks, go M’s).
We are both writers, too. Together, we work hard to see our own tomes published (at this point, I’d settle for an agent, but to be published is the dream). Dad found his agent (this is his first Father’s Day with an agent!) and is now working hard to not only edit his manuscript but also to help me secure my own representation.
I just wanted to say I know it hasn’t been easy, and life is a constantly evolving set of circumstances, but thank you, Dad, for being one of my best friends, a true confidante, and one of my biggest fans. I hope you know I’m the same for you!