Happy Father’s Day, Dad!

Phil Sr., Dad (Lynn), Mark

The third 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 is a day of joy with a tinge of sadness.

The five happiest days of my life are:

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, was born

September 20, 2012 – the day my second granddaughter, Alaina, was born.

December 9, 2014 – the day my third granddaughter, Amelia, was born.

As a child, I was always trying 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 the card, the gift aside.

During the past couple of years the relationship with my Dad has been better than ever. We have become much closer.

Now that I have been given, by the doctor, about six months to live, what once was divisive has become a stone upon which to build a bridge.

The last month or so, Dad has been there of which I am greatly appreciative.

At 81 he is still going strong. He is still working. He is still striving and winning his own race along the road to eternity.

To my Father, I wish the best this Sunday on Father’s Day, 2017.

I love you, always have, always will.

Dad Through the Years

Kev is a thousand miles away in Austin. Dave and my granddaughters are one hundred miles away in the Cornfield.

Father’s Day will be another Sunday.

From Mark’s Den, 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.

Published by


I am Mark Ivy, a born and bred Hoosier.
I am father to two wonderful sons, Dave and Kev, of whom I am very proud;
two terrific daughters-in-law, Anna and Hailey; three beautiful granddaughters, Dylan, Alaina and Amelia.

On May 9, 2017, my lung specialist hit me with the news I had maybe six months to live if the chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), the damage caused by the histoplasmosis described below, ran its normal course. I am now on hospice at home. Content and ready to cross over the river to the other side.

On September 2, 2014, I was diagnosed with disseminated histoplasmosis, a fungal infection, discovered by a biopsy of my larynx.
The infection is fatal if left untreated. For 2 1/2 years I lived under a death sentence being misdiagnosed
with a non-specific bacterial infection which left my right lung a “dried up sponge” and non-functioning.
I was aggressively treated for the infection with antifungals.
The treatment ended October of 2015 and fortunately did not take two years.

I suffer from chronic Horton’s Syndrome. The effects vary widely causing various problems.
Statistically, Horton’s affects only 0.1% of the population. Major depression also attacks me regularly.