This contrasts to the outpouring of blog-emotion for Mother's Day, a few short weeks ago.
Is it because father's are obsolete, rotten bastards, MIA baby daddy's? What?
Is the lack of tributes to fathers due to the relative unimportance assigned to them by media and by society?
Do fathers matter as more than just foils in bad commercials or sit-coms, where dad is a dunce?
Because of the missing tributes, I will offer two.
One is to a friend of mine, whose father died last week, after suffering with dementia. His body was in great shape, despite his 89 years, but his mind was gone. John had three daughters. At the wake the pictures were everywhere. He was always there for them. When he was in his last days, one of the daughters had a birthday. She whispered in his ear that it was her birthday, and for the first time in a long time, he opened his eyes. "He knew," she said.
Then my father. He died young of lung cancer, age 55. He was gone in six months. He was my hero when I was young and my best friend when I was older. At age 27, we took one last trip together. I did not want to go, because I was too busy. But something told me to go. It was a road trip. We had no agenda and wandered down Illinois 51 to the southern tip of the state. A little less than two years later he was dead.
Rest in peace, gentlemen.
There are more stories out there like this, I am sure.