From Father To Daughter And Back

I'm sure I'm not alone in saying certain days predictably deepen my mourning for people I've lost.

On Father's Day, the most reliable way to lift my sprits is having contact with my daughter. Our ever-deepening relationship reminds me - in the best possible way - of the bond I had with my Dad. I'm not sure if I was as attentive to him while he was alive as my daughter is to me but I hope I was. And if I was, I hope my love for him gave him a similar level of solace as my daughter's love gives me.

Over the seventy-nine years I had my Dad, I'm proud to say that early on we meshed in our passion for both reading - I can't recall a time when there wasn't a book by his side - and music. He played the ukulele and I still recall the times he'd accompany my mother, who had a nice singing voice. It warms me beyond words to have that same shared passion for music with my daughter and our mutual love of film is another domain that cemented our bond, early on.

Which brings me to the conversation she and I had early today, discussing...books. Even the most casual reader of my blog knows of my passion for music, literature, and film. The joy I discovered via reading and playing music was first immeasurably enhanced because my beloved Father loved the same things. To now have those passions further enhanced by my relationship with my daughter - and then amplified by our shared passion for film - fills me with gratitude. What makes you thankful for your Dad on Father's Day? If you're lucky enough to still have him with you, I hope one or more of your shared passions have helped sustain your relationship.