On This Father's Day

I am 47--hardly a young kid anymore. My father was sixty-nine when he died of a heart attack. My brother was 47 when he died of cancer ten years ago. Two uncles---my mother's brothers---died fairly young too. Obviously, this makes me think about my own mortality. Looking at the men in my family has always made me consider what it means to be a man, how to walk through the days of time and leave something of value behind. My brother Jimmy worked two jobs for about twenty-five years; when he died he had few regrets--not being able to see his daughter marry weeks just weeks later was one of them. In his last dayd he fought valiantly against the disease partly, I think, because if he could have been there to marry off his daughter, it would have meant everything to him.

My two daughters have also helped me to grow into who I am--and my longing wish is that time will be good to me, that life is gentle with my body, mind, and heart. I'm no longer the youthful soldier I've often imagined myself to be. On this Father's Day, I'm thinking of my daughters and their mother.