On Father's Day, and being a "Real Man."

On Father's Day, I give my utmost respect to the men out there who involve themselves in the live(s) of their children.  Fathering a child involves more than making your wiener puke into a willing woman's cha-cha, then seeing a baby ruin that cha-cha 9 months later.

One of my favorite movie lines comes from the movie Boyz in tha Hood.  Furious Styles is talking his son Trey fishing, and, when the topic of sex comes up, he states, "Any fool with a dick can make a baby.  It takes a real man to raise his children."  These words have always stuck with me, since I was living proof that "any fool with a dick can make a baby" but I wasn't raised by that fool.  I was raised by a "real man," who not only allowed me to legally take his family name, but raised me as and always introduced as his own son.  Through his example and the sometimes difficult lessons he taught me, I became the man I am today.  I owe this man EVERYTHING, and he already knows he has my undying love, admiration, respect, and gratitude.

I am celebrating my second Father's Day as a father, but I can't help but weep at how my Dad is forced to spend his Father's Day.  Even though he knows beyond question that I idolize him, he will spend today missing the one child of his who left us far too early.  A man the caliber of my Dad deserved to be revered as  the great man and father he was and is to my sister, my brother, and me.  He should be a shining example to all those absent fathers or abusive or indifferent step-fathers out there.  Yet he'll probably spend today wrestling with what he could have done differently as it relates to my brother.  He'll spend his Father's Day grappling with regrets he shouldn't have for a life that shouldn't have been lived in so much pain and shouldn't have been abbreviated as it was.  This is a true tragedy, folks.  As I try to enjoy my second Father's Day, my heart breaks knowing that my measuring stick for being a good father and man will be suffering, quiet and alone with only his thoughts and regrets.

He deserves better, and it kills me that I can't give him what he deserves and that I'll never be able to, either.

Today, I will smoke a brisket and a salmon fillet the way he taught me to.  I'll look upon my son with the obvious love and devotion the way he looked upon Audrey, Nathan, and me.  I will think about what might have happened had I not walked my mother down the aisle and placed her hand in his almost 30 years ago, and I'll know just how fortunate I am to be his son.  I will contemplate hoow fortunate I am to carry his family name on to another generation, and how fortunate my son is to be a part of such a great and loving family.  Then I will probably sob like a little girl with a skinned knee...

I love you, Dad.  I hope to one see in my son's eyes what I know is in mine when I look at you.  You will forever the standard by which I measure myself as a human being...