Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

A Father's Love

I was raised in an era where men didn't hug they're sons or said they loved them. There was never a doubt in my mind about him loving me and the rest of the family as well but emotions were not expressed by men, unless it was for the local sports team. I can say this never bothered me but I make sure to always hug and kiss my son when I see him and to tell him I love him every time I talk to him.

My dad was larger than life to me; he went from four-sport letterman in high school to serving his country in WWII to being a firefighter and deacon in our church after he returned. He never bragged about his accomplishments, that wasn't his style, in fact it was only after I went through his effects that I discovered he received a medal during the war. If I could have asked him about it, I'm sure he would have said he was just doing his job.

The last memories I have of my father were of him in a hospital bed looking frail and weak from the heart attack he had. The tubes down his throat kept him from talking and he was too weak to write even a sentence. I could see his inability to communicate was frustrating to him; there was no fear of death on his face but more of a worry about me getting his affairs in order.

I leaned over, kissed his cheek, and told him I loved him for probably the first time in my life. I told him not to worry, that I'd take care of everything and all he had to do was get better. I know he was surprised by my actions, I couldn't read the look on his face, but I like to think that he was thinking about how good it felt to have his son tell him of his love. We lost him soon after that and although he never told me he loved me, I at least told him, I hope that help ease him through last moments.

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