Now that I am one myself, I look differently on fathers. I see that there is not a one-size-fits-all perfect model of fatherhood. Dads have so many roles, and these roles turn out to be unique to each family, shaped by the ever-changing dynamics in each home. I look at other fathers with curiosity: how does he do it? What identity -- as a husband, as a parent, as a man -- has he created for himself as the years progressed?
But there is one thing which I believe all fathers share, one thing we all feel: it is a father's first job to protect his children from harm, in so far as is possible. There is a deep predator-defense response at work in every Dad's brain. You mess with my kid, and I will spring into action. What do I need to do?
Today is the 67th birthday of my own father, George. He lives with my Mom, in Berkeley, only a few minutes away by car, in the same home in which I grew up in from age 1. He walks down the hill to my house spontaneously at least once a week, drops in to say hi. Occasionally we meet for lunch. I see him in person every other day or so: a nod, a handshake, a brief exchange of some observation, an aside, a quick laugh which comes unbidden and ends with a smile. He is a continuous presence in my life and the life of my wife and children.
This year his son has experienced more strain than ever before. My wife was diagnosed with cancer in January of 2008, and the headwinds that we have marched into since then have included surgeries, hospital stays, falls, infections, children's ups and downs, chemotherapy, fear, bills, financial stress, the natural anxiety and confusion which all of this has brought. Through all of it, my Dad has been there. He sprang into action, and in his own quiet way he has been defending me and my family all year, without interruption.
This is the core of fatherhood. As a Dad I see that now. You are there for your children, without show, without expectation of return, and without interruption. It must take its toll on my father. Certainly this year was not how he imagined his 67th year, which happened to be the first full year since he accepted (reluctantly) the designation "retired." But he has taken it on, never made me feel that I have burdened him with it, and he has been there for me and my family every day. I have felt it. I am stronger because of it.
Thank you Dad. Happy birthday.
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