I know it’s a bit early to blog about Father’s Day. I hope you’ll bear with me since I won’t post again until after Father’s Day . . . . .
I’m fortunate to have a father who I am close to. Poor man, during my childhood years, he shared a house with four females and one, count it, one small bathroom. In spite of the testosterone minority in our home, he was a leader and a man who taught me to love in my growing up years.
Most of his childhood was spent without his father in his life. In spite of that, when I came along, he learned well how to wear and embrace the mantle of fatherhood. He was not a perfect father, but he was the perfect father for me. My dad taught my two sisters and me what love looked like—in how he loved my mother, how he loved the three of us girls, and how he loved others in his life.
Jeanne Takenaka 