OK, so I know I didn't post on father's day, but I had my column ready to go and never got around to posting it. So here it is, a few days late:



Father's Day never gets as much hype as Mother's Day, and fathers never collapse into hysterics if you forget their special day.

Perhaps that's because dads are lower-maintenance emotionally than moms, but they do deserve special praise this week, because there's nothing quite like a father's love.

Three fathers in my life have shown me just how deep — and singular — that fatherly love can be.

1. My grandfather — My grandfather and grandmother adopted a lively, loving 2-year-old girl when their family was still young. She bounced into their lives, filling a space that was left by several failed pregnancies. She was my grandfather's little cowgirl and the daughter he was meant to have — no adoption legalities could hide that.

She knew she belonged, even announcing one day that my grandfather could never get rid of her because they were sealed together and he was stuck with her forever.

The truth of her youngster wisdom rang true when that little cowgirl passed away 10 years later of leukemia.

But she was right — his love didn't end and neither did their bond.

My grandfather taught me that a father's love crosses not only bloodlines, but also earthly limits.

2. My father — I was your typical teenager growing up: terse, selfish and convinced my parents were the dumbest people on the planet.

My relationship with my father was strained in those teenager years. We didn't talk much and I rarely said the words "I love you." In fact, "I hate you" was my weapon of choice.

But when I went off to college and grew out of my teenage funk, he was there — waiting. He had always been there with an outstretched hand, waiting for the day when I'd come around and love him back.

So from my father I've learned that a father's love is constant and steady — no matter how many doors you slam in his face.

3. My husband — Every morning we go through a ritual at my house where my husband heads off to work and my 2-year-old daughter waves goodbye to me and walks out the door with him.

Each morning she is heartbroken when she has to stay with Mom. Oh, I know she loves me, and as soon as she stops sobbing against the door, she will run over to me for a kiss.

But there's just something unique about a daddy.

He's the guy who will flip our daughter upside down, let her eat strawberries from the yard without washing them and doesn't care if her hair isn't cute.

As I watch them together, I've learned that a father's love is unique and irreplaceable. He can give our daughter something I can't: an intangible daddy quality that defines their own special relationship.

That quality was there from the beginning moments in the delivery room. The baby was screaming as the nurse warmed up her body. Nothing consoled her … until her daddy spoke.

He simply turned to ask the nurse a question, and as his voice left his lips, our daughter fell silent and stared at him. She knew that voice. She knew him.

He was Dad.

And if there's one thing my husband, my dad and my grandfather have all taught me, it's that it takes a special kind of father to truly be a dad.