My dad has always told me he doesn't give a damn about Father's Day. The mistake I made, for so many years, was to actually believe him.
This year, he got a real nice card from me. A few weeks ago, he had a cancerous tumor removed; had a heart attack from the operation, got pneumonia, and had a lung halfway collapse. He is 83, and he almost died. I rushed down to Florida to visit him, hoping he'd survive, and that if he didn't, I'd get to say goodbye.
Today, I called him. He is at his house, resting. He thanked me for the nice Father's Day card I sent him.
I smiled, and said, "you're welcome."