I wrote my memoir All But Six to honor my dad, but this particular blog post is dedicated to all dads. On this Father’s Day I’d like to give a shout-out to all those guys who fill roles that are never mentioned. There’s no lavish award show, trophy or gold ribbon handed out for being a good dad. This is your big day and the other 364 days of the year you just put your head down, suck it up and carry on. You don’t even give it a second thought—it’s your job.
If being a father is as simple as what the dictionary describes, it sounds like a relatively simple role. Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary defines it as, “a man who has begotten a child.” That’s it? Really?
What a Father Really Is
A father is that guy who didn’t hold a grudge when you ran over the mailbox and it cost him $250 to fix it.
When you were a child he let you drive a golf cart—you know that time you promptly ran it into a ball washer—then jumped out running away like a ghost was chasing you. He was the person laughing and shaking his head while wondering how his offspring could be so ridiculous.
He is the man who was so sick of your whining, gave in and bought you a ferret knowing full well that it was going to stink up the entire second floor of your home because you never bothered to clean the cage.
He was the guy who showed up at all of your baseball games even when you’d rather be picking daisies and twirling until you barfed.
The man who secretly followed you and your prom date to the dance because he wanted to make sure you got there safely.
He was the person who you could always call when the shit hit-the-fan and you didn’t want to hear your mother bitch you out.
He was also the man who made you lie in the bed you’d made when he didn’t want to hear your mother bitch him out.
He’s the guy who paid the hospital bills when you ignored his sound advice about not jumping your skateboard off some ridiculously high wooden contraption.
Your father was the guy who showed you how to shave your face, treat a lady and which teams to cheer for.
He taught you how to fish, swim and deer hunt. He bought you a knife and a gun when you couldn’t even use a pair of scissors safely.
He was the guy who was brave enough to let you drive him around town the very day you got your driver’s permit. His reward: a good case of whiplash.
He was the man who paid for your college classes—including those you blew off and failed.
He might’ve been the guy that convinced your mother it was going to be fun to fill a barn full of livestock so you could learn responsibility—only to discover you were really into playing corn hole with frozen sheep turds and a bucket.
Your father was the guy who put together the thousand piece toy you insisted you needed and then promptly broke.
The very same man patiently listened to you practice and spit on your clarinet while he pondered what you might do with such a talent.
He bought you and your siblings a car and postponed getting himself a better vehicle.
He skipped his vacation and worked so you could take a cruise with your friends, or study abroad where you learned how to drink beer upside down from a funnel.
He was the enthusiastic fan that agreed to your grand plan to become a rock star and sing Bryan Adams cover songs at graduation parties—fully funding your microphone and giant speakers.
He was also the lunatic that agreed to fill your fish tank with piranhas when there was a toddler in the house—because who needs those little fingers anyway?
He allowed you to live on Jelly Bellies and microwave popcorn when he was the cook for a long weekend.
He let you enjoy the expensive football tickets and attend the once-in-a-lifetime game while he went to work crunching numbers, and glancing at the internet to follow the score.
The same man showed up wearing your school colors and booing the referees whether you dominated the court or just got beat by the worst team in the county.
The guy who taught you what you should want in a husband, or possibly what you would never want in a husband.
This character is the one man on the planet who looks you in the eyes and knows deep in his gut that you are a major pain in his butt, but you are his pain, and he would lay down his life for you every single second of every single day.
So if you’d ask me to define a father, I’d say, “He’s the man whom you will love for the rest of your life—if you’re as lucky as I am.”
Final Thoughts
Even those times you missed-the-mark, could’ve done better, or just simply screwed up, in the end you still taught your children something valuable. To all those men who show up, succeed, occasionally fail, keep trying and continue to love their imperfect creations, I hope your offspring loves your faults, talents and character as much as you do theirs.
Happy Father’s Day to all you guys who give way more than you receive in return. We love you more than words can express and we see all the big and little things you do. Thank you for all that you’ve sacrificed in your role as Dad.
Love, Terrina
PS—Happy Father’s Day to all the animal dads, too! If fur-babies could write a blog they’d thank you for letting them steal the covers, hog the bed, and eat extra treats when Mom’s not looking.
