The world’s greatest father

In South America, the Spanish word for dad and potato is the same: papá. A co-worker of mine, who was from Peru, told me that back home they have a saying: “Mothers are saints, fathers comes in sacks.”

Not every child has a good father.

Years ago, I helped organize a corn roast, a barbecue and a games night in Brampton for a charity group: “Families of Children with Cancer”.

A large number of  families came for the fun, the food, the companionship, and a chance to forget their worries. Many I had not met before.

One family; consisting of a young woman, a young girl, maybe nine or ten years old, and a man attended. The woman told me her story.

She was married and the couple lived in a house in Brampton. They had one daughter. One day, with no warning, her husband told her that he was leaving her. He met someone else.

Her marriage was over.

Then a parent’s worst fear.

Their daughter got cancer. The mom spent every day, for months, at the Hospital for Sick Children with her daughter.

The husband was in Florida with his girlfriend. He never came to see his daughter: he never asked about her.

The woman lost her job. The company kept it open for her for a few months but then said that they had to fill the position.

Now she had no husband and no job.

Her daughter needed surgery. The doctors were going to take out a tumor and the woman was worried sick. The night before the operation, the woman prayed to God: “Please God, don’t give me anything else. No more. I can’t take any more bad news.”

Within an hour or so after praying, she got a phone call from her husband. His message was short and sweet. “Sell the house, I want my half of the money.”

He never asked about his daughter.

I looked at the mother, then her daughter. I didn’t know what to say.

So I wish to honour all the good dads out there who support their families and create loving homes. They are the real men who should be celebrated today.

Next Father’s Day, I may write about “Three-Butt Charlie.”