Sometime, somewhere, I met my Dad as a small infant here in Washington State. He's the one I have always called Dad, even though another was my biological Dad. He's the one that was here for me all the times I fell and all the times I soared. He was and is my inspiration.
I just returned from a trip to the Southwest United States to a place in the desert where my Dad was born: Animas, New Mexico. Okay. It's not in Washington State, but it was a dream of mine that was finally realized. I didn't get to see where my mother was born before she left this world, so I wanted to be sure I didn't mess up again. I joined my husband and my Dad for a trek to this lonesome, desolate place in New Mexico for which I will be forever grateful. It was a final link in helping me put the pieces together that make up my Dad.
I can't think of anywhere in the world that could be about as different as where I was raised: Port Angeles is on Puget Sound in Washington State; Animas, the almost absolute opposite in terrain, is in the high desert of New Mexico where water is nowhere to be found. It's a place you have to make an effort to go to; it's not on a main road anywhere. But it is where my Dad was born, and that's all I needed to know to want to make the trip.
My Dad has been in Washington State most of his life and all of mine. He is the epitome of what a Dad should be, and I honor him this Father's Day, June 20, 1999.
We all have Dads, and hopefully most of us are proud of them. My Dad has been both a father and a mother to me since my mother died three years ago. He was her partner and caregiver in later life, and a gift giver to his children. He nursed our mother as she died a terrible death of cancer and showed us what love is all about. I watched him as he gently cared for her and never gave up that she would be well again. I watched him as we lost her anyway to this terrible disease, and saw the strength he gave his children to carry on even though he was dying inside. He is also a cancer survivor.
