The  3rd Sunday in June is celebrated as Father's Day in the US of A. For me  being a son, a father and a grandfather, each Father's Day has been a  day both of joy, but also one in which a tinge of melancholy always  slips into my emotional mix.

As  a child, I was always trying any way I could to please my Father. I  would try to emulate him. I would make sure no matter how often we moved  and how many schools I attended in one year, my grades would remain at  the top of the class. Always striving to obtain approval.

Yet,  it seems that approval never came. On Father's Day I would try and find  the right card, get the right gift. I would get an obligatory, "Thanks  for the card and gift, Mark." Not much more as he would set them aside.

For my brothers, it would be a big smile and thank you along with a big hug. I couldn't understand it.

Now over a half century later, the relationship between the 2 of us remains tenuous at best. I have yet to gain his approval.

During  my recent hospital stay and surgery, he dropped by once to inform me  how I didn't know what I was talking about when it came to Medicare not  covering my dental needs.

When  he walked in to the hospital room, he didn't bother to ask how I was.  He asked what the surgeon had said. I told him about the belief that the  bacterial infection may be caused by my teeth. He immediately said the  doctor was wrong. He said Medicare would cover the teeth and tooth stub  extractions. I tried to explain it was excluded to no avail.

Of  course it wasn't until about 4 years ago, my Father finally accepted I  was sick with cluster headaches and major depression. He kept telling me  it was all in my head.

I kept saying right back, "You're right. It is all in my head."

When  called to the ER that year, the doctor took him aside and explained my  cluster headaches and what I go through on a daily basis physically,  mentally and emotionally. He grudgingly accepted, but with skepticism.

So  Father's Days growing up tended to end the same way. I would try and  please my Father to be rebuffed. I watched with envy how he would love  my brothers, but apparently not me.

The 3 happiest days of my life were:

February 21, 1979 - the day my oldest son, David, was born

November 29, 1989 - the day my youngest son, Kevin, was born

February 6, 2007 - the day my granddaughter, Dylan Kay, was born

My next happiest day will be September 12th of this year when Dylan welcomes her sister, Alaina Dee.

I was kept from David until he was 25 years old. I never stopped looking for him. Turns out he was always looking for me.

When  we finally met, online, it was as if heaven had opened up and the  angelic choir was singing in jubilee. First, Dave contacted Kev.

Kev IM'd me.

"Dad, I think I'm talking to my brother," Kev typed nervously.

A few moments later, Dave IM'd me.

That  year was the best Father's Day ever. I was able to finally be with both  my sons. I didn't need a card or a tie or some other gift.

I had the best gift of all. I had both of my sons.

Earlier  today, I received a card from Dave and one from Dylan for Father's Day.  I can't begin to express the joy I felt. Dylan even signed the card  herself with, "Love, Dylan".

It is probably my newest best gift.

Most  Father's Days, I do the obligatory call to my Father to wish him well.  The rest of the day I wait for a call, an email, a text or IM from one  of the boys.

This Sunday, I will spend the day waiting as usual. Iohn will be at work.

I have the 2 cards. Kev may or may not remember to call, IM, text or email. But I know he loves me and that's all that matters.

From  the Cornfield, to every father out there, remember the best joys in  life are not the cards or the things, but it is having the love of your  children.