Time to salute fathers and joy of being a dad

Andy Richardson

There’s more to Father’s Day, however, than simply remembering our dads – both those who are with us now and those who are affectionately remembered in memorium.

Tomorrow is a time when dads can reflect on the greatest kids of all – their kids. It’s a time for gratitude for the unconditional love that flows between parent and child, for the unstinting support, for the willingness to go to hell and back and for the joy that parenthood brings.

Without hesitation, the birth of my son, Abdul, was the greatest day of my life. It still is. I don’t expect it will ever be surpassed. I won’t feel disappointed if it isn’t. For the unconfined joy that his birth provided remains.

No moment has felt more special, no day has been more important. No bond has been closer. In the darkest moments – and there have been plenty of those, there are for us all – that bond has been unbreakable.

It’s a love supreme; a bond that isn’t affected by time or distance, by circumstance or the occasional cruelty of life.

He took his time to arrive, just under 24 hours, before appearing in a delivery suite in Shrewsbury, where a nurse had confined me to a chair in the corner.

There was no hand-holding nor words of encouragement. The professionals were getting on with a challenging delivery while I watched hopefully.

When he arrived, a bundle of purple limbs and wet skin, a nurse handed me a pair of scissors. “Cut the cord,” she said. “Congratulations, dad.”

That word. Those three letters. Dad. They still send shivers. It made what I’d witnessed real. It was all I’d ever worked towards, all I’d ever wanted: The Greatest Day.

My firmest ambition had always been to have a loving family of my own. My own father had been brilliant at that; his greatest achievement was the creation of a family of five that doted on one another.

He had been Michaelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel, pouring years and years of love and time and effort and care into an achievement to dwarf all others.

I’d imagined during my late teens and early adulthood that I’d simply follow suit.

Certainly, that was my dearest wish. As my best laid plans unravelled, however, I realised this: heroic dads work at it, that level of brilliance takes sacrifice and dedication.

My mistake was in taking for granted that I’d be as good at families and parenthood as my own dad.

I foolishly imagined that because I’d enjoyed such a positive and life-affirming experience – and still do – that the same would be the case for me. It wasn’t.

Throughout my twenties, I made only mistakes. During my thirties, I got closer to my dream. Then in my forties, I became a father.

Truthfully, I could not have been more proud, more pleased, more humbled nor made more complete by my son’s arrival. He was – and is – the greatest part of my life, the exemplar and paragon, the primo and sans pareil.

My dream of providing my son with the same sort of stable, happy home that I’d experienced faltered unlike my love for him, which has been ever-constant, steadfast in the face of extremis.

He is the first thing I think of when I wake up, the last thing I reflect on before I fall asleep, he remains the centre of my world.

On Father’s Day, it’s important not only for dads to enjoy the CDs and cards, but also to reflect on the reason for their joy – and that’s their kids.

Abdul has brought nothing but joy. In his temporary absence, me at the computer, writing, him elsewhere, the thought brings a smile and happy memories flood.

Taking his first faltering steps, witnessed by his father, at the age of one as he stood erect in an apartment in Jersey and walked steadily towards the sofa.

He’d figured it out, given it a go, then got back to his hands and knees to play with toys.

Each evening when I returned from work, he’d instinctively seek me out and position himself immediately beside me, ignoring those who’d spent the day with him and unashamedly displaying his love – and receiving mine.

Playing Scalectrix, breaking rules, sitting on my knee to watch a favourite film, sharing stories, holding hands, playing sport and smiling with abandon.

When Abdul came home from hospital, his mother and I would share the load. She’d look after him during the early morning and through the day, I’d take responsibility from the moment I arrived home from work until the early hours.

That delicious space, shortly after midnight, when all the world slept, except us, was the best of times. Tired but happy, secure in one another’s love, safe and content – the world has never felt more distant, more unimportant.

A friend bought me a diary, I still have it, telling me to write stuff down. So I did. It’s pages are filled with love, with reflections on intimacy and joy, with expressions of gratitude that the little ginger ninja with a lazy eye had joined our world and made it whole.

And as the years have ticked on, those reflections have continued. Each one is an affirmation of my love for him, an expression of gratitude for his being.

Abdul’s story has been more complicated that I would like it to be. It’s one, however, that will have the happiest of endings. So while today is all about celebrating fathers; it’s also about remembering the things that give them the greatest joy – and that’s their kids.

Dan Morris

I’ve always been somewhat scared of becoming a father – for the happiest of reasons.

I don’t have the same fear of loss of liberty that some blokes experience at the thought of being a dad. Nor am I worried about how, when the day comes, taking care of a child may impact my finances.

The truth is very simple – from my grandfathers, to my friends, and of course, my dad himself, my world is and always has been full of fantastic fathers.

There are some very big shoes to fill, and while I stride around proudly in my size 11s most of the time, I worry about how well – when fatherhood beckons – I will step up to the plate.

My mother’s father was a strong, herculean figure of a man. A polish miner – whose proclivity for profanities I have touched on before – he was a rock of a human being with a staunch moral code, and values based on a desire to constantly protect and provide for his own.

A proud man and a proud father, his is an example to be followed for sure.

My stepgrandfather on my dad’s side is a kind and quiet man who always made time for the busy little boy I used to be.

Whether it was the hours of tireless Lego construction he indulged in with me, or the time he spent fashioning a multitude of rockets and spacecraft from the wood in his workshop, his effort with me as a child was wonderful. His patience knew few bounds, and he always put plenty of life’s most precious commodity into making my childhood special – time.

In recent years a number of my closest pals have become fathers, and I have been enchanted by watching the fantastic world they have devoted themselves to building for their children.

Their unceasing commitment to their little ones as the centre of their lives, and the magic I have seen them pour into their relationships with these wonderful little trusting people has been inspirational, and has proved to me that The Beatles had it right all along – all you need is love.

And then of course there is my own dad.

There will never be enough column space in this paper to do him justice or effectively communicate the gravity of our relationship.

He has been my best friend, protector, inspiration and partner since the day I was born.

Most of what I am, I owe to him, and only hope that I have always made him as proud to be my father as he has made me to be his son.

I was never lucky enough to meet my dad’s dad. He died before I was born. I’ve often wondered what I’d say to him given the opportunity – there is so much I’d be fascinated to learn.

But with Father’s Day this weekend, I think I’d simply say this...

Dear Grandad Graham, I’ve heard many times about the brilliant man and father you were. Yet even if I hadn’t, that much would still be clear to me, as you raised an incredible son.

Thank you for giving me the best dad anyone could ever have wished for – it is something for which I owe a lifetime.

My thanks for everything – including of course my middle name. When I become a father, I will do my utmost to live up to it.

Your grandson, Daniel Graham Morris.

Heather Large

Have you been putting off your Father's Day shopping or has it completely slipped your mind?

Don't worry, there may only be 24 hours left until you celebrate your dad but it's still plenty of time to find the perfect way to show him you that you love and appreciate him.

Although this year everyone is going to have to think outside the box when it comes to the ideal gift.

On a typical Father's Day, you might celebrate the father figures in your life with a Sunday roast in his favourite pub or tickets to a football match.

But with both these activities and many more not currently an option, creativity is going to be key.

Take the pub lunch, although you may not be able to go to your local, you can bring the beer and food to you. Many pubs are still offering takeaway food for delivery and collection so you can enjoy a meal in your garden or local park - but you will need to supply the refreshments.

If the sun is shining then a barbecue featuring all of his favourite food will probably also make his day.

If he has a favourite tipple then a subscription box could be a perfect way to give him a gift that keeps on giving. Whether he likes beer, wine, cider or spirits there are plenty of options out there.

And it's not just drinks, with different retailers selling boxes offering everything from gourmet food, coffee and spices to books tailored to his specific interests.

Even if you're not able to see your dad tomorrow in person due to the restrictions that doesn't mean you can't celebrate 'together'.

With FaceTime, Skype, Zoom or even Houseparty, you could get the drinks flowing with all the family and enjoy some food at the same time.

If you want to give your dad something to look forward to when life returns to normal, then you could buy him a gift experience that he can book when lockdown has been lifted.

From getting behind the wheel of a speedy supercar to sampling five-star cuisine made by a celebrity chef, there's plenty of choice.

It's also quick and easy to do online so it's the ideal gift when you're short of time, just print out the details or email them to him. It could even be something that the pair of you can do together so you both have a special day to look forward to.

But if you've left it until literally the very last minute, you should surely be able to find an M&S petrol station where you can buy him some nice chocolates or a bottle of red so you don't arrive empty-handed. Or if you can't meet up with him, then a phone call and a good natter will be still be a good way to show him you care.

Just remember that when you're struggling for inspiration or worrying that you haven't found the perfect gift, the most meaningful thing of all will simply be the fact that you thought of him.