Happy Father's Day. Or Maybe Happy Solstice Day.

I won't lie.  Seeing all the Father's Day messages on Facebook brought me down pretty low today.  Well, that's not entirely true.  It wasn't me I was sad for, it was my kids.  I think from now on we might just have to put the emphasis on celebrating the Summer Solstice instead.  Well, that's not entirely true either.  I'm not a pagan or a Druid and I don't like to dance around naked, so maybe the Summer Solstice thing isn't quite the answer either.  Hmmm.

What I do know is that my kids had the greatest father ever.  Eternally patient.  Optimistic.  A realist who understood the need for magic.  Loving and supportive.  Playful and silly.  Full of wisdom and a wonderful teacher.  The greatest example of a godly man I've ever known.

Dear Bill, from the moment you decided we should start a family (I know everyone thought we were crazy and that it was my idea, but you and I know the truth!) sooner than later, you were already the best Dad.  You cried when I told you I was pregnant and had this goofy smile on your face for about 3 months.  You never balked when I asked for ginger-ale mixed with sprite and lime juice at 11:00 PM.  You made sure I had blueberry pancakes and mesquite-broiled shrimp at least once a week.  You were so calm and reassuring when I had Madeline.  You took to parenthood much easier than I did.  You'd just stick your pinkie in her mouth and sing Sinatra to her until she fell asleep.  You were the nighttime bather--always with baby lotion for a "ssage" after.  Madeline thought you hung the moon.  I was nervous and uptight and you were easy-going and joyful.  What lessons you taught me.

Then Jack came along.  Again, you sang Sinatra and walked the floor for as long as it took to get him to sleep.  Just that one time (remember?) did you lose your patience with the sleeplessness.  Thank heavens for the sound machine!  Remember when you dropped him at the beach and we had to take him to the ER?  I know how terrible you felt.  You let me sleep in the next morning and took him to The Pines restaurant for breakfast.  You never tried to sway the kids to a particular way of life, but instead encouraged them in their own interests.  Lucky for you that Jack loved backhoes, "yog" trucks, and baseball.  You taught him about it all the right way.  You also taught him to act like a man and be honest, responsible, hard-working, and kind.  You were the greatest role model.

Before Jonny, there was the baby.  You cried right along with me through it all.  You understood enough to not question my need to repaint the bedroom that week.  Even when I chose purple.  And you spoke the words of truth that helped me understand it all.  And now you get to be with that child and tell him about his Mama and his siblings and how someday we will all be together again.  I know you'll tell all the right stories and teach all our family's traditions.

And then came Jonathan.  Easy pregnancy.  Easier birth.  You were with me, again, through all of it.  Kind of an old hand at this parenting stuff by now.  We were so in the groove that we took a vacation when Jon was 10 days old.  I remember it wasn't a great time.  But you took it all in stride and made the best of it.  It was about this time that you moved us to Virginia.  How you loved it there and how you worked so hard making a home for us.  I think it was there that we truly became a family.  Jon, so different from the other kids, loved to listen to you read.  Or talk about the Civil War.  Or hear about fishing from Frances Ames's books.  You would set up elaborate toy soldier battles with Jon or play guns with him outside in the woods.  You were so patient and attentive to his presentations.  Remember how you slept by his crib for months after we moved just so he wouldn't wake up and be afraid?

Sarah.  Our baby that you delivered at home.  And then you saved me.  Too many words to express that night so let's forge ahead.  The only one of our babies that preferred me.  I think you were disappointed to have your streak broken!  Sarah was definitely my baby, but you picked up the slack with the other kids effortlessly.  Sure, you might have fed them garbage from time to time and let them watch way too many episodes of "The X-Files" but you were always there and always loving.  Sarah loved to listen to the "Speakaboo" stories when you put her to bed.  You were lucky when she'd crawl up on your lap for a snuggle.  I know you savored those times.  She did too, even if she acted otherwise.

So many things, some big and some little, that you instilled in our kids.  I see it every day.  In Madeline's laid back attitude, Jack's laugh,  Jon's sense of humor (and his eyes!), and the silly twinkle in Sarah's eyes.  It's all you.  I thank God for the reminders of you that I see in each of them.  You gave them so much.  Some of the seeds you planted won't be harvested for years yet to come.  But I know your influence will always, always be apparent in their lives.  Little glimpses of you throughout their lives.  Oh, how I look forward to each and every one.

You were the best Dad.  I'm pretty sure you knew how special you were.  How incredible you were.  I only wish there would have been more time.  But the time you did have was amazing.  I'm ever so thankful for it.