You have to know my dad to appreciate this fully, but I just got a phone call from my mom, and she told me that when she printed your responses and gave them to my dad he was fighting tears as he read them. She asked if I would send what I had written, and it hit me – finally – why I had felt so strongly about not sending it when I wrote it.

My father will appreciate what I wrote, but your comments touched him in a way that my words alone could never do. He has never sought the recognition and praise of strangers, so he never has received it. To hear my mom tell me of his tears as he read your words is a feeling I will never forget. I truly appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

My mom has a rare form of schizophrenia. My father was unaware of this, as was everyone else (including my mother), when they got married. He found out after the birth of my sisters (twins), when she was overwhelmed and her mind wouldn’t shut down and allow her to sleep. She had what was termed a nervous breakdown, which led to her clinical diagnosis.

From that moment forward, my dad shielded my mom from every care of the world so her condition would stay in remission, if you will. By all practical measures, he became my father and my mother. He shouldered all of the financial, household, emotional, physical, disciplinary, organizational, educational, etc. responsibilities for his family and allowed his wife to be seen by the community as the strong, spiritual one. People in town admired his work ethic, but they never realized what he was doing behind our doors – because he never once mentioned it in ANY way to ANYONE. He didn’t want others to view his wife as anyone other than the sweet angel he had married – to do anything that would lessen her in others’ eyes in a time when mental illness was not understood.

Until her first breakdown, my father served in various leadership positions in the Church. After that, he waited nearly 30 years to serve in another position that required he spend significant time away from home – until his children were gone and my mom could function without the stress associated with raising them. He left an extremely well paying job with incredible advancement opportunities to go back to the small town where my mom was raised, simply to ease her stress and allow her to function normally. He became an elementary school janitor, took a 50% pay cut and focused on loving and serving his kids – both at home and at his school.

Not holding a high profile church position, he came to known in town as a salt-of-the-earth farm boy – a good man, but certainly not a leader. I bought into that perception until my mother’s second breakdown a few years ago, when her “sleeping pills” stopped working and her whole personality changed. It was only after this experience that I finally saw my father for what he is – as close an example of the Savior’s single-minded dedication to service as anyone I have ever known.

Thank you, Dad. Happy Father’s Day. I understand this holiday solely because of you.

I have a nice dad.