So. This Sunday is Father's Day, and this will be my first Father's Day without a Father. It seems very strange, and somewhat upsetting to me. I miss my Dad a lot.

My Dad had a huge, bellowing laugh and it often sounded like he was choking. I remember hearing those guffaws when he watched Bugs Bunny cartoons, of all things. I was about 6 and we lived in Comox and he'd watch the Saturday morning cartoons with me and whenever his laugh would burst out, my mom would come running, thinking he was in some sort of death throes. He would laugh like that whenever he found something funny, and that taught me that humour is appropriate at any time...laughter is never wrong. Being Happy is what it's all about.

He used to take me to work with him if he was working on a Saturday, he ran the Construction Engineering building and while he was working, he'd give me boards and hammers and nails, pliers and vice-grips. My mother would have never let me play with tools, she was pretty overprotective of me, but my Dad let me learn while hammering the odd thumbnail, and he bought me toy trucks as well. That taught me that I didn't need to do what the other little girls did if I didn't want to. I could do whatever I wanted, and I could be whatever I wanted. I could do no wrong in my Father's eyes.

I remember the sound...a hollow "tock, tock, tock" of the BBQ fluid as he squeezed it out of the tin can on to the charcoal briquettes...in the days, children, before gas and propane BBQ's. And I remember the "whooomph" as he threw in the lit match and the smell of the sulphur. I also remember the smell of burned eyebrows and the sound of his cursing. And that taught me to not use so much lighter fluid.

I remember when Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, and I really had no interest in it, but he made me sit and watch with him, trying to make me understand how exciting it was, and what it could mean for the future of mankind. I sat on the floor beside his brown rocking chair, and I remember how silent he was when Neil Armstrong put that first foot on the surface of the moon, and how he breathed a sigh of amazement, but I remember the texture of that rocker and the feeling of his hand on my shoulder more than anything else, and that taught me how important time spent together is.

I remember living in Northern Quebec, and the family across the street from us was black, the first (and only) black family on that airforce base. I was about 8 years old and Dad invited them over for dinner when no one else would. This, of course, taught me tolerance and the value of friendship. My Father never cared what people thought of him, he always said that as long as you tried to do the right thing, and did what felt right , then you would be OK.

As I grew older, he was always patient with me, even during some of my not-so-wonderful teen years! I'm sure I drove him completely crazy at times, and I'm sure there were times that he had to bite his tongue, but he never made me feel anything less than loved. That taught me how to love my own kids, and how to (hopefully) make them know how much they are loved. I know that I will never be loved so unconditionally again.

I think that my Dad taught me some valuable lessons, and I guess that if I taught my kids any of that: compassion, tolerance, patience, caring, then my Dad's legacy will continue.

Happy Father's Day Dad. I sure miss you.