A Tribute to Father's

I had a wonderfully imperfect father growing up. He did the very best he knew how to be a father to me. I could have chosen to spend the rest of my years, picking apart his imperfections and how they tainted or stunted me. But you know what, who he was and how he was are sewn in to the fabric of who I am today, and heck I am bold enough to admit I turned out pretty darn well. Father's day gifts, were always my favorite. As a little girl, I adored pouring on the love and telling my dad just how fabulous I thought he was. He was in fact that first man I loved, and he single handedly had my heart for a very long time. In fact, when he died I discovered in his closet a box of letters he had kept, from when he worked away. They were letters I wrote to him for everyday he was not home, a collection of love letters with the sweetest declarations of adoration ( I digress).

As a woman, Father's Day was a time for me to share with my Dad how some of the offerings he shared with me had shaped the person I am. I completely admired my dad's ability to continue to grow, examine himself and learn new things. The most touching example of this came in his sixtieth year of life. That was the year, my dad changed from the Catholic church to the Untied church. This was a big move for him and showcased how his religious up brining wasn't going to determine his spiritual practice in his later life. Shortly after joining the united Church the congregation began a discussion on whether they would perform gay marriages. My dad had a strong opinion on the matter, and attended the first discussion to share his thoughts. He boldly declared, that marriage was a sacrament and this was the driving force behind his opposition to the proposal. The minister kindly turned to him and explained, "it's not in this church Rick." And my dad's opposition was stopped in its tracks. Many weeks later, my dad called to share a personal moment with me. He explained that during the minister's sermon declaring why the church would know openly accept and perform gay marriage, he was brought to tears. "It's all about love Shan, how could I have ever been against that." It was one of the most tender moments I shared with my father, the witnessing of a crumbling wall of a belief no longer needed.

In my father's 62nd and final year of life, he joined his first choir with me by his side. He declared to me that he figured he had been a closet singer his entire life. And in fact, the day before his life ended my dad sang with gusto in the church choir on the one and only day his adored grandson's choice to check out this church.

So my tribute here is to honor each and every Dad out there and the tender loving moments they share with there children. Cause even with in the most imperfect of people there is love. And I dare say that this love is the only thing that reaches out and lives beyond our physical existence.