Member-only story
The Heart of a Lion
Remembering my father on Father’s Day
Today is Father’s Day. I didn’t really celebrate it. My father has passed away and I have no children.
Yet I consider Father’s Day to be important, because fathers are important. Today I reflected on what my father meant to me.
I wasn’t close to him like I was to my mother. Yet, he was important to me. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have the courage I do. When I took risks, my mother fretted. But my father encouraged me.
Notice the similarity between those words — courage, encourage.
My father had the heart of a lion.
When he was 60, he had a heart attack. He lost 90% of his heart. They scheduled 7 bypass surgeries for him at Massachusetts General. The surgeons were grim. My father was not.
As they wheeled him into the operating room, he grabbed my sobbing mother’s hand. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll make it.”
He lived 11 more years, with 10% of his heart. But when a heart is as large as my father’s, perhaps that is all you need.
When I had cancer, I was 36 years old. It was inflammatory breast disease. At that time, 85% of those diagnosed were dead within 18 months. My doctor gave me 6 months.
