The humming of the fan overhead woke me. I was sweating profusely.

Enter the Ghost of Father’s Day Yet To Come.

It was June of 2009, and then some. Through the tears, I saw his eyes, now closed forever as he was handed over to the ages. He was much older now than when I had known him, but he appeared to be resting peacefully, and deservedly so…the casket closed.

I turned around and, wiping my eyes and gazing off into the horizon, the crowd roared. My own Mom and Dad cheered me, just as they had for as long as I could remember. My wife Jenny smiled, nodded with affirmation, then mouthed “I love you” from the stands. Beside her stood my own son, Charlie, and another face I didn’t quite recognize, who both jumped up and down and yelled “Daddy!”

I looked back over my shoulder, only to find a man in Tehran, telling his own son “goodbye” on this Father’s Day. He was no different than I, just a simple man who wanted to be heard. With a kiss and a pat on the head, he was off and into the streets, fighting for the opportunity to speak, and hoping that someone would listen. If not for himself, it would be the best gift he could ever give to his son. The fires raged, the rocks flew, and the bullets cut him down in mid-sentence. “Where is my vote?” he was asking. As life slipped away, he cried…and with his final words, “vote” changed to “child.”

I watched Charlie grow up right before my eyes in a world not too different from the one I knew. There were victories and defeats, valleys and hurdles, short days and long nights, but through it all, I made certain to be there to hold his hand, pat him on the back, nod with affirmation…and mouth “I love you” from the stands. Each is a family tradition as far as I am concerned. What we pass on is often far more important that what we hold for the moment.

Fears, worries, and anxiety will trick you. They’ll trick you into thinking that everyone wants to watch you slip and fall, and to never experience the sweet taste of success. They’ll trick you into believing that someone is behind a big desk at the bank, specifically watching your personal financial situation go down the drain, and that they’re just salivating to lick the stamp and envelope that will be the death knell to your good name and credit. Fears will trick you into thinking that the next phone call will be the dream job from the employer who tossed your resume in the garbage the minute you left their office…yet, you’re still sitting there waiting for them to call, wasting your gifts and talents with each passing breath. They’ll trick you into believing that the next lotto ticket is your passport to financial freedom, and your chance to use an ungodly sum of money to help change the world for the better, because somehow you ‘deserve it.’ They’ll trick you into sitting down for one drink, only to discover later that you’re three knuckles deep into a bottle of cheap whiskey.

Fears are damn good at what they do best…transforming us into someone we don’t know. Fears enslave us to the world, and to a system we can’t beat. They cheat us, rob us, divorce us, lie to us, and worst of all, they paralyze us by tying us to the stake of personal demons that we can’t escape on our own…some of the same demons who came to haunt me Saturday night…

Charlie’s kids are laughing, tossing a ball with kids of their own. They’re all happy, and why shouldn’t they be? It is Father’s Day after all…He’s had a good life, a successful life, and now he, as an old man, looks out into the horizon of a backyard surrounded by the white picket fence he always dreamed of having. Through the sunset, he can see their eyes…his kids, and their kids. So full of life, and happiness…and he is glad to know he had a part in all of it.

He then turns his head toward in the heavens…he smiles, nods with affirmation, and then mouths “I love you.” And for a brief moment, no more than a heartbeat, he can hear the crowd roaring from the stands…just as they had done for as long as he can remember…