A Poignant Tribute to Fathers

This weekend is Father's Day, and I'd like to take this opportunity to give a heartfelt tribute to the wonderful fathers in my life; my father, Kermit, my partner Chris, and his father, Bob. The recent passing of Bob on Monday, June 2nd, 2025, makes this post both timely and poignant.

My father left this earth almost twenty years ago. I cherish this picture of my father and me at the time he and my mother lived on the University of B.C. campus, studying toward his Masters of Divinity.

That time holds a special place in my heart, filled with many happy memories; however, this specific event remains vividly and delightfully etched in my mind. I was on the floor in his home office drawing pictures. It was beautiful outside, an early spring day, and I was sitting in a pool of sunshine, getting hot.

“Can we go swimming today?” My words broke the room’s silence as happy memories appeared of wrapping my arms around my Dad’s neck, legs kicking wildly, as he breast-stroked up and down the pool. He looked up from his notes, said no, and continued studying. I asked him twice more, using the magic word. “Please, can we go to the swimming pool?” This time, he gave me the look, communicating he didn’t want me to speak to him again about the matter. I didn’t even hesitate as I tore a corner from my picture and wrote, as neatly as I could, not speaking a word, “Pool, PLEEES?” and handed it to him.

Abandoning his studies, he laughed, scooped me up on his knee, and gave me the explanation that satisfied my question, explaining, “Alice, the pool is closed because there’s no water in it and it’s still too cold out for swimming. I promise we’ll go on the first day it opens.” That was the detailed answer that satisfied my curiosity. This experience with my dad taught me to pay attention to anything I found curious, which fostered a love for research. He showed me, too, that you can’t box up curiosity or limit it to societal norms. Most of all, I knew he loved his family deeply.

Chris and his father have that deep love for their children in common. I knew my husband loved his daughter, but it was a photo of him laying on the couch cradling his newborn that I understood how he and his daughter's hearts remain so beautifully connected.

Chris and I began our life together in our forties, but not before making sure his daughter and my children were on board with our being together. We loved our children fiercely and would have forgone our relationship in a heartbeat if our families didn’t work together. To their credit, all four seemed to bond and today they are truly siblings, or slibthings, as they affectionately call each other. Chris is the devoted father of them all. This is our first Christmas together, 27 years ago.

From the photos we have of Bob and baby Chris, they both look happy. That relationship turned into a bond that lasted a lifetime.

The year my partner and I travelled to San Antonio to see Bob and his wife, Julie, was one of the best trips we’ve taken. They took us to their favourite restaurants. We saw where Bob still worked and toured the hill country. We loved exploring the history, art, and exhibits at the San Antonio Museum. Best of all, we had time to reminisce and just hang out.

While we were hanging out, two memories gave me more insight into who Bob was. We’d spent the previous day travelling, taking three planes from early morning until late evening, finally arriving, thrilled to see Bob and Julie. The schedule was tight, but, miraculously, we got onto all three flights. At one point, I had to grab my shoes off the check-in counter and run in my socks with all our bags to the boarding gate where Chris and his porter were anxiously waiting.

On day two of our trip, I discovered my cell phone plan didn’t cover my tablet. I'd checked on phone plans before we left so we wouldn’t be stuck with roaming charges, but the second I turned on a phone or tablet, I incurred charges. Fuming, I called our phone provider and set up a new all-inclusive plan. That done, our phones needed charging. I plugged mine in but couldn’t plug Chris’s phone in. Bob called with plans for the day and suggested he could bring a laptop for Chris to use while he was there. I told him about our phone trouble and asked if he had any spare phone chargers he could bring with him.

Bob arrived with the laptop and phone cables ready to fix the problem. I handed the phone to him. He took a nano-second to check it out, then looked at me for two seconds with one eyebrow raised, exactly like Chris does when he knows I’m frantic and not thinking. Not saying a word, he opened the phone case flap, exposing the charging port, and plugged in my phone cord. Fifty shades of red later, I apologized, and we went about the rest of our day. Bob was the 90-year-old tech guy with a mind and faculties I’d have given my right arm for at age 70. He’d already been up for hours working at his job, caring for their tech needs before tending to ours.

Toward the end of the trip, I needed to clean our clothes. Our hotel laundry facilities were out of order, so Julie invited us over to use their machines. We enjoyed seeing their home, Julie’s magnificent pottery work, and the backyard gardens. At some point, Chris left the living room and Bob asked me about my book. I told him it was a memoir about how I’d changed over my lifetime.

“For example,” I said, “everyone has some sort of trauma in their life. In my book, I disclose my ex-husband had assaulted me, but the worst trauma was the slow wearing away of my inner self from constant criticism and the effects of our narcissistic/co-dependent relationship.” I paused, then said, “I very nearly lost my soul.” Instantly, his face melted into a glowing, caring, loving expression I’d never seen before. I teared up and felt a swelling lump in my throat. Somehow, he was right there with me, sensing, feeling, and sharing the pain I felt so many years ago.

I will never forget either of those expressions nor his gifts to me in patience and empathy. A force of intellect, technical savvy, and care has gone from this earth at age 92, but he will never be gone from our lives. I’m fortunate, though, that Chris is so much like his father in force of intellect and care. The essence of Bob is alive and well in him, except for the tech part. Thankfully, we have two sons who are computer tech savvy.

On this coming Father’s Day, I honour and remember my Dad and my father-in-law, Bob, for the poignant moments that keep them alive in my heart, and honour my dear partner and husband, Chris, for sharing who he is with our four children. It’s in those events of candour, laughter, or meaning that we share a part of ourselves with each other. The moments we share with those we love are precious jewels, gifts that enrich our lives and add layers of depth and meaning to our lives.