Remembering him makes me ponder on the father figures in my own writing. I realize how much of my own father is in those characters. One of my dad's favorite things to do was to go fishing. And, without a conscious thought, I made one of my main characters a fisherman.
My dad also liked to hunt. My father characters spend a lot of time tromping about in the woods. Usually, they are hunting someone lost, instead of an animal. But I remember that my dad once, only once, shot a deer. He had such remorse over that, he never attempted to actually hit one again. He still went hunting, but he was out there more for the walk in the woods than anything else.
My dad also liked to instruct - showing us how to do just about anything he knew how to do. All we needed to do was ask, and we were rewarded with the gift of his time. My father characters are the same, guiding and teaching, and, above all, just being there.
My father protected us, just as the fathers in my books protect their offspring. I felt safe in his presence, as if he could hold back all of the dangers and evil and hurt of the world. And I never felt lacking in any need, whether it was basic - food, shelter, clothing - or frivolous - camping, vacations, new toys. We didn't have as much money as the father characters in my books - royalty all - but somehow my dad made me feel as if we were just as rich - maybe even more so.
So, on this Father's Day, I think of my dad and all that he did for me and my siblings, and I thank him. And, I like to believe, that the kids in my books are thanking their respective fathers as well. boop-boop-de-boop, Dad. I love you. JennaKay Francis "More magic than you can imagine."