My brother was one of the best dads I know. He died a little over a year ago, and I know his two children think of him every day. He was a great “dad” even before he became a father—I remember him as a teenager, playing with all the younger kids on the block, all of whom adored him. He’d swing them around in his long, long arms, high up in the air (he was a giant of a boy) and then bring them back down to earth, gently. He was one of those people who grew taller and taller, but never grew up.
So, on Father’s Day, here’s a shout out to all the dads, and, as a friend reminded me, to the moms who are both mom and dad to their kids—because sometimes dads don’t stick around.
The book I’m writing now is about a great dad—a man who wants to do the best he can for his daughter, despite huge responsibilities. I don’t want to say too much about it, but I’m really itching to get back to it, after an absence of a few weeks while I worked on another project.
I think I might have just given myself a little bit of inspiration!