“Father’s Day – 2003”

 

I am writing this after Father’s Day has past.  I am doing so for a number of reasons.  First, we planned to take a trip to see NIU on Father’s Day and I knew this exercise would be too upsetting to do before we left.  Nor did I want to write after we got back.  There is so much uncertainty with this day.  If an only child dies, is the father still a father?

 

What are the roles that a father must play?  What should he do?  What should he not do?  The dictionary says a father is one who gives paternal care, who is a male presence, a protector, a provider, someone who takes responsibility for…?  I don’t know how much of “being” a father is dependent on the person who is the father.  How much am I responsible for?  Can a good father have a bad child?  Can a bad father have a good one?  Some would say that we can only lead the way and the child must choose his own path.  But doesn’t the way we raise our children determine their ability to choose?  If not, then what is the point?

 

It is so hard not to focus on the last two years [of your life].  And the problems immediately before 17 April 2001.  It is hard to remember the 20+ years of joy I had being your dad.  I was always proud of you, even when I didn’t say it.

 

Although you played the role of father for a very short time, you must have felt the same joy, the same pride.  A child, especially a son, becomes an extension of the father…someone to carry on his name, his dreams, his ambitions.  There is so much promise and hope in a child that it is unthinkable for that child to die before the father.  The very reason for the father to exist has ceased.

 

That is my uncertainty.  If there is no child, is there no father?  Is there no future? Must I live in the past?  “I used to be Shawn’s father.”  Was I?  Did I provide?  Did I protect?  Did I prepare?  Did I take responsibility for you?   What kind of father was I? There is such a range of actions that I can’t even begin to measure.  I can’t help but think that if I had been a better father, you would still be here. 

 

Are you here?

 

If there is something after death, then perhaps there is still hope.  Perhaps my pain is only for a short time, for there will come a time when I will “see” you again – and mom and dad.  How I miss you all.  I want to tell you all, how sorry I am for not being a better father to you, Shawn.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell mom and dad I loved them, how proud I was to be their son.

 

I want to thank you Shawn for 20+ wonderful years.  You gave my life purpose and meaning.  I will always be proud of you.  I will always love you.

 

Your dad.