Jim Hern Productions
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Gahanna, Ohio 43220
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-Jim Hern

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I never really had the ideal father-son relationship with my dad. He and my mother split up when I was just seven. Those few short years prior to my parents divorce, I can remember going ice-skating and sledding with my dad. I can remember playing football in the farm-field across the street from our house. I can remember him teaching my brothers and I some of his favorite songs. I can remember him playing guitar and singing. I recall watching him play the guitar and dreaming of the day when I could do all the things that he did so well. Of all the memories, I couldn’t recall my father ever telling me he loved me.

I hadn’t had the chance to get to know him much more than just those memories. Many times I longed for the companionship of a father and often times I felt myself wanting to hate him for leaving.

My mother did a wonderful job of the dual-parenting role. She struggled while attending school and raising five kids solo. I never want to discredit my mother, but as any boy will tell you, without a father, there is a noticeable void in your life.

Many times I wanted to visit my father or even talk with him or just to hear him say “I love you.” But as each year passed, I became more accepting of my life without him.

I found myself being angry that I hadn’t seen much of my dad all of these years. I really didn’t know with whom I should be angry. Maybe my mom never allowed my dad to visit. Maybe I never showed enough interest in my dad to warrant my mother arranging some visits. Maybe I never reached out for my dad and he thought that meant I didn’t want to see him. Never the less, I wanted to know more about my father.

Twenty-five years flew by and I was blessed with the birth of my own son. Suddenly my desire to ”get to know” my dad had become closer to my heart. I wanted my son to know his grandfather. I wanted to proudly display the fact that I was now a dad, and that I would embrace the responsibilities of fatherhood.

My son is now three years old, and we have had the opportunity to spend some time with my father. We went on a couple of trips on my pontoon boat. We played a little guitar together at family events. My dad even showed up with gifts for my son on his birthdays and at Christmas. I felt that possibly, my son could get to know his grandfather as the dad I never knew.

I lost my father to cancer last Wednesday night. I held his hand as he looked into my eyes and told me he loved me over, and over, and over again. My heart ached as he slipped into a peaceful rest. Not for him. I knew his pain was gone, so my heart was truly heavy for me. I hurt for the time we never had. All the camping trips we never took. The sports we never enjoyed together. The summer days we never spent just being lazy. I missed everything we never did.

Friday, my three-year-old son came to me and asked if we could have a bonfire in our field behind our house. He wanted to roast marshmallows together. I said without hesitation, “Yes we can.” I took my son to the store and carried him on my shoulders through the isles. We left the store with a bag of marshmallows and a few other ”goodies” for our bonfire adventure that evening.

When we got home, the sun was setting, so quickly we headed over our bridge to the field and started collecting sticks and branches to build our fire. We built the biggest bonfire any kid and his dad had ever built! (My son kept saying this.)

By now it was dark. I finally lit the fire and we pulled our chairs up to a log. The fire seemed to stay small enough that we were just a few feet away. We had some long sticks to roast our marshmallows and we were nestled close together by the fire. Just me and my son.

Then, as if it were orchestrated from the heavens above, my son turned to me and said “I want you to tell me about your daddy, tell me a long time about what you used to do with your daddy when you were little.”

I was glad that it was dark and my son couldn’t see my eyes. Just the light of the fire was on our faces as I felt tears roll down my cheeks. I began to tell my son about my dad showing me how to ice-skate. How we played football in the field. How my dad loved to play guitar and sing. And how my daddy looked into my eyes and told me how much he loved me.

Just then I realized, my father had been there all along. Our relationship did exist. We had some fun times together. He loved me. Now, I have come to understand that we have to make the time to be with our loved ones. We should create special moments. We should allow our hearts to grow. Most importantly, know that time passes quickly and all we are left with are the memories. Make them great!

I put my arm around my son, pulled him a little closer and looked up to the heavens and said “I love you.”

My son put both of his arms around me and said I love you too.