I recently had the opportunity to visit the ancestral home and burial place of another of our Nation’s Founding Fathers. While in Quincy, Massachusetts, we toured the home of John and Abigail Adams, and the restored historic farmhouse where John Adams was born in 1735, the house itself having originally been built in 1681. Of all the interesting Adams family artifacts we viewed the most interesting to me to see, but not touch, was the crude walking stick – actually a small cane – that John Adams used as he walked about the grounds of his farm and gardens during his retirement years.

John Adams and other patriots of his day, both the well known and the nameless, sacrificed more than we can ever imagine to create a free nation. Each time I visit the home of one of our Founding Fathers my mind is filled with admiration and I contemplate the idea of what it would have been like to have been born in 1746 instead of 1946.

But here I am today benefitting from their gift of service. It occurs to me that Father’s Day could, and should, include remembrance of all the fathers who have nobly guided our nation, as well as our dads who guided our lives when we were young and who, for some of us, have also served as role models of how to grow old in wisdom and with grace. I realize this may not describe your Dad, but think of the man, or men, who did fill this gap in your life.

I cannot hold the walking stick of John Adams in my hand, but I’m blessed to have the walking stick that my Dad often used in his later years and, as I take my turn in using it, I hope that I may demonstrate a measure of the wisdom and grace that he imparted to me in his late years.

As a tribute to our Founding Fathers, to my Dad, and to all of our dads on Father’s Day, I share again a story that I shared with you a few years ago about my Dad.

The edges of the path were adorned with ferns, holly, and other flora, with a canopy of imposing Douglas Firs towering overhead. Our 10-minute walk into these memorable woods had brought us to a small outcrop where the trees opened to frame a panoramic view of the beautiful Nisqually Valley below. In the distance the valley stretched to the shores of Puget Sound near Tacoma, Washington.

Although hidden from our immediate view, not far to our right Mt. Rainier rose majestically above the horizon. This was indeed the perfect spot to scatter Dad’s ashes – along this path where Dad had seldom missed a morning walk during the last 25 years of his life.

This spot was selected with loving thoughtfulness by my stepmom, Bee, whom Dad affectionately called his bride for all of their 43 years together. A year had slipped by since Dad, at the age of 89, had suddenly, but peacefully, had a heart attack and died on July 26, 2007.

Dad lived a storied life that led him from his small-town roots in Marion, Ohio to all parts of the world, finally settling in Olympia, Washington. His remarkable journey had included a 25-year career in the Army, rising to the rank of Command Sergeant Major, with distinguished service in three wars, World War II, the Korean Conflict, and the Vietnam War.

Dad’s life story had also included three marriages, and he would be the first to say that his service in this area of his life had not always been distinguished. But, as he grew in years he also grew in wisdom, love, and natural innate goodness.

It was this goodness that drew four of his children, including the youngest from each of his three marriages, from our homes across the country to share this celebratory walk with Dad’s bride, who has now become Mom to all of us.

Over the years we four had often each taken our turn walking these woods with Dad, as we periodically made the trip with our families to spend a few days with Dad and Mom. Now we walked not somberly, but quietly into the woods; without saying it each knowing this would be our last “walk with Dad” along this trail he loved so much.

As the only son present (and the youngest child from Dad’s first marriage), it was my honor to carry Dad’s ashes, snugly tucked in a backpack which Mom placed over my shoulder; an act that was unexpected by me but which I realized instantly was one of the thoughtful details of her plan for this day.

It was a circle of life moment with varied emotions, as each person present took her and his turn casting a handful of Dad’s ashes into the air and watched them gently float to the ground. In age we ranged from Mom, well along in her 70s, to my 4-year-old twin nephews who had known their Grandpa just long enough to have a few gems of his goodness planted in their curious little minds.

As we completed our task of love, I shared with Mom (who happens to be Korean and of the Buddhist faith) a verse I had read early that morning, “Even the gorgeous royal chariots wear out; and indeed this body too wears out, but the teaching of goodness does not age.” Thanks Dad for sharing your goodness with us.

George Brown is the executive director of Clermont Senior Services.