What I posted at this article electronic site, about my Father, for Father's Day

The father of my childhood was not a great man. He was a good man, but not great. Or more accurately, not a great father. He deemed fatherhood equated to being the breadwinner, and that child-rearing was the mother's job. This, along with some derision, snide comments, and marital discord between mama and father, things did not go too well. Granted, we were never beaten, nor scared of him, he never drank or gambled his income away. The number of times mother would frantically tell him "Dad, they don't want 'things'! They want YOU!" only to have him stare at her, blank, and confused, I cannot count. Due to the marital discord, alleged infidelity according to mama, and a slow but clear despising from father toward mama, I grew up hating him, as a teenager, and a young adult. Things happened, as time went on, and fences got mended, that I thought never could. Father woke up to what he had and had not done, and diligently set to making things right, with the patience of Job. In due course of time, I forgave him, and realized that I really did love him. Father died, December 5, 1996. The man I grieved for, and still miss, is not the man who raised me, but a far better man. A man of honor, dignity, and respect. A man who honors his word. Yet, the depth of that only came to my understanding after he died. It was between when he died, and well before mama died (August 4, 1998), because she was still in her Marion apartment, not in Loris yet, near me. I had driven over for a visit. Enough time had passed, that we could chatter about the past, without breaking into tears, and chatter we did. For some reason, I recollected a time a friend borrowed my car, lent it to an acquaintance, who drove around drunk in it all night, that it was "stolen" from me, back then, and got retrieved that night, via the police, all while mama was in ICU. She was floored, for she had no idea at all. This intrigued me, and I pressed further on that point, explaining that yes, father had promised me that he would never tell her, but that I thought surely by now he had done so. Mama paused, and with a clear expression of calm certainty that only decades of living with someone can bring, said to me, "Let me tell you something about your father! If he promised to never tell me, then those words would never part his lips, and he would take it to his grave with him!" - which is exactly what my father had done. Suddenly, I saw my father in an entirely new light. He has such massive dignity, integrity, respect, honor, and was a man of truth who honored his word. More then ever before, I was proud of my father, and proud to be his son. My only regret is, I learned of this after he died. Robert Meek Loris SC