Father's Day

I remember a Father's Day about twenty-five years ago. I was living in an apartment near Como Park in Saint Paul. I would often go for a run through the park and around the lake. On that morning, I stopped my run when I got to the lake. I found a quiet spot next to a tree near the water. It was a glorious morning, a slight breeze, a bright sun. The parking lot nearby was already beginning to fill with people out to celebrate the day. I ignored them and instead kept my focus on the water. It had been about a decade since I lost my father. I tried to remember him and what life was like back then. I also talked to him. I told him what I was doing, where I was living. I wasn't a kid on the farm anymore, I had grown up. I wanted him to know that I was okay and I hoped he could hear me. Deep inside, I hoped he was proud of me and I hoped he wasn't upset that none of us was on the farm anymore. I reflected on how much my life had changed in the past decade. I wondered how much it would change in the next ten years. Little did I know that approximately a decade later I would once again be experiencing the severing of the father son relationship as I mourned the loss of my first child. It is truly amazing how much life can be packed into a decade.

This Father's Day, our family was at the cabin with friends. Once again I found myself at the edge of a lake, staring at the water. This time I looked out, not just as a son, but also as a father and a husband. My sons are eight and twelve. A decade from now my oldest son will be about the age I was when I sat by the lake in Como Park. The decade ahead will surely be one of vast change for them and for me. I can hardly wait.