Happy Father's Day!

By W. F. Twyman, Jr.

I awoke this morning to a barrage of Happy Father’s Day messages. Before I read the messages, I reached out to my own Dad and wished him Happy Father’s Day. He was in good spirits and recognized me. His voice was strong and definitive, even though he couldn’t see me and I was thousands of miles away. The human mind is a marvelous blessing at times. I thought about author Adam B. Coleman and how blessed I was to be my Dad’s son. Sure, my Dad and I had strong opinions over the years. We butted heads and could not understand one another.

But Dad never abandoned me. I Was Devastated When My Father Abandoned Me

The loss of a father is loss of scaffolding in life. My father’s father passed away of chronic arteriosclerosis at Central State Hospital on February 20, 1936. My Dad was not two years old. He never talked about it but to never have a fighting chance to know your Dad is one of life’s great tragedies. At least Adam Coleman knew his father in the flesh as a living man. My Dad only had a picture of a man frozen in time in the dining room and memories from his older brothers and sisters and the filtered remembrances of a grieving widow.

Since my first memory, I have known my father. I was blessed and never gave having Dad around a second thought.

“Every generation Blames the one before And all of their frustrations Come beating on your door” — The Living Years, Mike and the Mechanics

Have I been a good father to my kids? I worked too much. I preferred As, not Bs, on report cards. I was rigid and strict. I didn’t love sports. I never cursed and strove to have a profanity-free household. I thought of the best schools possible for my kids before they were born. I was quirky, not a cool Dad. I warred with Jack and Jill as my kids grew up.

Was I a good Dad? You would have to ask my kids. They are my best evidence of fatherhood. I love them all equally. From the moment I became a Dad, I felt enormous responsibility and a sense of duty. I lived long enough to have gray hair and kids launched into adulthood.

Twenty years ago, you entered my life and things have never been the same. I was a father, a dad. I felt my new status in my stride, in my walk. Those feelings of pride and indescribable joy have anchored me throughout the years gone by. In turn, I have always sought the North Star of education for you. Dreaming and planning for your future has been my constant way to show my love and devotion. I’ve always been the dad who would read to you, who would plot your way so that you would grow into a manhood of ambition and self-confidence. That has been, and will always be, my way. — Dad to Son on Son’s 20th birthday

I was blessed as a Son and a Dad. That’s what I think but my adult children will be the best judge of it all.

This essay is dedicated to James Twyman (1880-1936), a Dad never known by my Dad.

I think I caught his spirit Later that same year I'm sure I heard his echo In my baby's new born tears I just wish I could have told him in the living years — The Living Years, Mike and the Mechanics

It’s Too Late When We Die To Admit We Don’t See Eye to Eye