My brother and his daughter

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.

My brother and his daughter
My brother and me, with our babies

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!

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