Father's Day

While I'm not a big fan of contrived Hallmark holidays, I'm not so much a grinch as to be completely unmoved by the sentiment behind them. My life as been enriched immeasurably by two fathers: my own and my children's.

In another month, it will be two years since my dad died. I still can't quite identify the impact of that. The dramatic in me wants to tell you that I stagger through my days still overwhelmed by grief in little ways, because certainly there are moments when such a statement would be true. But the sadness and loss are most often eclipsed by the imprint of his life. He was strong. And he gave me strength. Not by requiring it of me; no, quite the opposite -- through his generosity with it when I wasn't strong enough on my own. Even in his absence now I am still strong... because he was. Truthfully, I don't begrudge him his early exit, though I'd give almost anything to hold his hand again.

In a stroke of unbelievable good fortune, however, I have another strong hand to hold. Together we brought three beautiful children to life and have had to figure out how to raise them. It's a work in progress, but never has a man been more dedicated to the process, or to the partnership of parenting. I am a better mother -- a better person, in fact -- because of the energy he devotes to being a father. Which is not to say our home is without the occasional conflict, or that our children are above reproach. Nevertheless, if you envision all the ways in which a father can influence -- for good or ill -- the present and future lives of his kids? These three kids won the lottery. They don't even know yet how lucky they are.

But I do.