Fatherly love | The Press

My brother Bertrand has been a physician in Campbellton, New Brunswick for 40 years. When he goes down to Montreal, it’s always an event.

On a beautiful Saturday in May, we had dinner together at Leméac. With my sister-in-law, Marie-Andrée, my sister, Dominique, and my brother-in-law, Jacques-Bernard. A beautiful evening. I find my brother forever. A good guy, calm, composed, rational, logical, intelligent. Without excess. Like to discuss and be right. Like his brother.

At the beginning of June, he is back in Montreal. It is his birthday. I receive the whole family for brunch. Add to the May guests the four daughters of Bertrand and Marie-Andrée, their buddies and the young children of the latter two.

My brother is still the same, but not quite. He has something different. He is less posed. More flown. When his children are around, my brother is excited. He has a surge of happiness in his heart. Which gives him a little swing in the shoe. The light comes out of his eyes. He speaks more quickly, bustles from one to the other, laughs loudly and admires them with his gaze.

It’s good as it can’t be better!

You know, the wonder of a new dad for his offspring, my brother is still possessed of that decades later. When Marjolaine, Valérie, Gabrielle and Geneviève are with Marie-Andrée and him, my brother is complete. It’s rare, a fulfilled man; my brother is. Life can’t be more beautiful than this! Yes, she can! Because now there are the grandchildren, Edouard, two and a half years old, and Simone, one and a half years old. My brother is crazy about her and him. He would spend his days playing with Edouard and Simone. Without ever getting tired. Because my brother loves the game as much as they do. If not more. I know, he’s seven years older than me, and when we were playing toy cars, I was 8, he was 15, and he took it more seriously than I did.

My brother is a good father because he is still a child. My brother is a good grandfather because he will always be a child.

I said at the beginning that Bertrand’s arrival in the metropolis was an event. An increasingly frequent event, since the arrival of the third generation. And it’s going to get bigger because, in the fall, grandpa will have two more grandchildren in his arms. My brother is not done farting on fire!

Yes, that’s just it, my column. Just to say that when my brother is with his daughters, he is even happier. And it touches me to see him like this. And that makes me happy too.

In short, that paternal love can do as much good to the children who receive it as to the fathers who give it.

I know, it’s all pink as a portrait, but it feels good to be in pink sometimes; we are in the dark so often.

We must be aware of the harm caused by fathers who hurt.

We must be sensitive to the destinies of fathers in distress.

But we must also draw inspiration from the experience of jubilant fathers.

It’s important to know that fatherhood can satisfy more than any professional success.

My brother had a dream: to become a doctor. When he became one, I was sure it would be his greatest pride in life. Today, I would say, without hesitation, that they are his four daughters.

It is so obvious for a mother to say that she is, above all, a mother. It should be for a father too. Men would be better off, deep down, by connecting to the essentials.

Happy Father’s Day ! Celebrate how lucky you are!

Children, be with yours, you don’t know how much more wonderful that makes it!

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