or me, Father’s Day is about reflection, like sitting down with a much-loved book crammed with special memories.
My dad, Herb Weber, passed away in the fall of 1996, so Father’s Day is a day that for me is about remembering him and honouring his memory.
That’s not to say I don’t do that throughout the year of course. But with all the talk about dads and the impact they have on their children this time of year, this is a time when I probably think of him more intensely.
It’s amazing after all these years how clear and vivid my memories are of him.
My dad was a loyal, hard-working, and caring man.
He was also a complex person –a rugged ‘man’s man’ but also a person with a gentle, sensitive, and emotional side. I saw my father shed tears easily, and it wasone of his attributes that I appreciated most.
He also was one to put others ahead of his own interests. Dad was pretty mellow most of the time - I recall times on family vacations, for example, when he would want to do something but would kind of be drowned out by the rest of us who wanted to check out a different site or activity.
Dad was a typically good-natured, easy-going man who would brush it off and go along with what others wanted to do.
As a father, my dad provided me and my two sisters with a constant sense of stability and safety.
Most importantly, I never doubted for a minute that he loved me. He wasn’t one to often verbalize his feelings, coming from a generation where expressions of love were often more shown than spoken.
But it didn’t matter – there was never a doubt that he adored his kids and there wasn’t a hint of doubt of his commitment to us.
This isn’t to say my relationship with my father was perfect.
Through my teens and into early adulthood, there were times when we didn’t connect very well; when the ‘generation gap’ was atits widest.
He was 42 when I was born, so age-wise there was quite a span. But as I grew older, that gap narrowed significantly.
I was only 27 when my father passed away, and I have felt sorry that we couldn’t have had much more time together.
I know things would have gotten even better. He was a bit uneasy about my choice of career, but he didn’t live to see the joy and fulfillment that it has brought me over the years. That would have pleased him - no question.
Losing Dad was the first time I had experienced the loss of a loved one so close to me. Dad’s health took a turn for the worse quite quickly.
I look back at the last summer of his life with gratitude, because we were able to spend a lot of time together. It was pretty amazing, really.
We worked in the yard of the very house I grew up in.
We would go driving. We talked. We grew closer. With his failing health, I sensed my father was dying, and I knew that when that happened I didn’t want anything ‘amiss’ between us.
By the time I returned to school in Calgary that fall, our relationship was better than ever.
Shortly after Thanksgiving, my dad had surgery. But things went terribly wrong and he was rushed to Calgary.
He was forced to go on a ventilator, and it was heartbreaking to watch him struggle in his bed unable to talk.
I remember him looking at me one day with a look that said ‘Can you believe this? It’s horrible.’ He felt devastated and sad not just for himself, but for us as well.
I went to the hospital one cloudy Saturday afternoon, and it was clear his condition was worsening. Within a dizzying, anguished two hours my dad was gone.
The following weeks and months were bleak, but very slowly colour does return to one’s world even in grief. But obviously, things wouldn’t be the same.
As C.S. Lewis put it following the death of his mother, life seemed kind of like a blur of ‘sea and islands’.
The ‘great continent’ had been swept away, he noted. Gone was a solid foundation to feel safe on.
Today, I remember my father with so much appreciation, affection, and pride. He loved life, and he always spoke of the joy of new experiences.
Most strikingly, towards the end of his life, heaven was as real as earth –I remember thinking how Dad started to notice so powerfully the beauty of the world. It was like he was preparing for something better.
He always had a natural sense of wonder about so many things and it shone even more brightly in those troubling months.
Meanwhile, his legacy lives on.
I’m always pleased when someone comments on how much I remind them of Dad. I see pictures of him and I see reflections of myself in him.
I’m often told how much I resemble him, and it makes me feel proud. I wish so much we could just sit down and have a chat. He was so interested in our lives - he’d want to hear each detail.
My father represented so many things to me over the years - a steadfast faith, the amazing security and priceless gift of unconditional love, and a sense of care and concern that never faded.
I feel it still.
I’ll always be grateful, and I know I’ll see him again someday.
