I was lucky to have two fathers: My “real” dad and my
stepfather. When I think of Father’s Day, I have several examples of a “father.”
My Dad was a complicated individual. Even though I lived
with my dad for 8 years, I did not really know him. Sometimes, the memories are
great. Often, the memories are nonexistent or bad because I was scared of him. Perhaps
that was normal because he was the disciplinarian.
When my parents were divorced and Dad moved to Boise,
several weekends a year and during the summers, Dad and I were forced to have a relationship.
There were some rough patches in those early days, but I found out that I loved
my Dad.
Even now, when I make scrambled eggs, watching cartoons, BBQ’ing,
etc, I think of my Dad. He became like a great wonderful older brother to me.
My step father was my “real” father. When my mom married my
step father, I was 8 years old. The comparing of fathering styles was evident. My
dad used a belt to enforce his rules. My stepfather, on the other hand, was so
calming and reasoned when he had cause to discipline me.
A belt was a harsh punishment, but it made me resentful. For
my stepfather, all he had to say, “You let me down, and I am disappointed.” His
words were more punishing than my dad’s belt.
However, I realized later that my mother married two wonderful men who were similar in many ways. They were very intelligent and incredibly
smart, irreverent, quick witted, successful, devoted to their families,
selfless, compassionate, etc.
Though different in many ways, I realized now that they were
more similar than I ever knew. Mom had great tastes in husbands!
When my second massive stroke happened January 13, 2012, my
dad had been dead for 18 years. However, when the hospital staff was rushing me
to have another MRI, I distinctly heard my dad saying, “Mark Patrick, you will
be fine. I love you. You will be fine.” Though confused and scared, my dad was
with me.
After that stroke, my parents arrived from Twin Falls. Mom
and Karl, held me tight and said, “You will be fine. We love you.” They passed away 10 months after my strokes.
Often I tell people, I had three great parents. My three
parents helped me during what was the worst day of my life. I am grateful for
them.
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