My father died in late April many years ago, less than two months after my wife and I married. Even then, on that first Father’s Day without Dad around, I figured out that I hadn’t lost him. But now it’s just obvious.
In the beginning, my brothers and I would all point out “dadisms” in each other. One of us would do or say something in a manner Dad used to. That provided a lot of private jokes and comedy, and it’s also when I got it. Then it was reinforced in spades when my sons were born. Pieces of us continue—even beyond the simple genes.
For example, my youngest has a hearing loss in one ear. He never met my dad but when he is on the phone, he holds the receiver exactly the way my dad used to—and my dad had a hearing loss. Now as I get older and my hearing muffles a bit, I too find myself holding phone receivers at a slightly off angle to help clear the sound. It makes me smile when I see my son doing it or I catch myself.
My oldest probably has the most pronounced manifestation of Dad's spirit. When he is mad, he looks just like Dad—his rigid composure, his stern facial expressions, and his stubbornness. When we disagree, his expressions and inflections sometimes remind me of those times Dad and I argued. He also has a similar chuckle and Dad’s ears.
Then there is my middle boy. He is a bit turned inward as Dad could be sometimes. He thinks about things, and even broods, but doesn’t necessarily share what’s on his mind. One cool thing, he's as easygoing as Dad was.
Men have a tendency to measure themselves by their fathers—wanting to either be like them or wholly different. So finding those traits within yourself or from your children is up to individual opinion on whether they are good or bad. The trick is knowing how to embrace those traits and make them positive, or just laughing at them. Still, one thing is clear, our fathers live on in us—we never really lose them. That’s the father’s gift to his son—and one worth celebrating.
