Father's day is meant to honor the man who helped bring you into this world, who taught you how to throw a baseball or drive. Why should we stop at thanking our father one day per year.

Thank him everyday for what he has done to make you who you are today -- life can sometimes be too short. I learned that the hard way in May of my sophomore year at Clinton High School. My father passed away suddenly at the age of 54.

I didn't have the opportunity to say Happy Father's Day. But my father was not the one who expected anything in return for his hard work besides a smile and a thank you. Gifts were not his thing, nor were holidays. Sports are often the building blocks of father-and-son relationships, but with my dad being an immigrant from the Middle East, sports were not his idea of fun. He did not have time for fun. He was constantly worried about providing for the family by working 16-hours-per-day at a pair of plastic shops in Leominster.

I didn't have the opportunity to say Happy Father's Day. But my father was not the one who expected anything in return for his hard work besides a smile and a thank you. Gifts were not his thing, nor were holidays. Sports are often the building blocks of father-and-son relationships, but with my dad being an immigrant from the Middle East, sports were not his idea of fun. He did not have time for fun. He was constantly worried about providing for the family by working 16-hours-per-day at a pair of plastic shops in Leominster.

Most kids remember throwing the baseball in the front yard with their dad for the first time -- my first time came with my older brother.

Dad was at work, and I am convinced he did not know how to throw a baseball.

But that was fine by me.

There were a lot of things he was good at. Like teaching the value of hard work, earning a dollar and cracking notoriously bad jokes. Jokes don't always have to be extremely funny to everyone, so long as you laugh, everyone else will, too. At least that's what I gathered from him.

I remember my dad going to most of my football practices through middle and high school. He would walk our little dog, Bandit, along the fence line. Trust me, it was not because he liked football, it was because he liked when people came up and wanted to pet the dog. I still remember walking out of that locker room and hopping into his humming eight-cylinder 1992 silver and black Dodge Dakota.

The moment I opened the door, he would ask "So, did your team win?" Every time he asked that, I would have to explain to him it was just a practice.

But I did not care because he was there to support me. When I took up wrestling my freshman year of high school, Dad attended home matches any time he could.

I remember winning my match and there he was sitting on the first row of bleachers in his blue work uniform, smiling ear-to-ear as I walked off the mat. My father was an avid wrestling fan, so when I told him I took it up, he was thrilled that I finally participated in a sport he understood. When he passed in 2006, I gave up wrestling and decided to focus on picking up more hours at my part-time job at the mall.

Saving money for college was more important than sports at that time for me.

Every morning when I wake up, I walk over to the picture window in the living room and look at my dad's pyramid shaped urn where his ashes are and stare at his picture wondering what life would be with him? If he was still here, he would probably be parading the newspaper around to all his friends at the plastic shop bragging about me being a reporter.

That's just how my dad was, a very proud family man. A true American.

I do not have any human kids of my own ... just my Black Lab/Rottweiler mix, Doey. But when I do, I hope that I can be as great a father to them as mine was to me.

Remember, you and your dad will have disagreements -- it is human nature -- but at the end of the day, thank him. Not just one day a year because the calendar says so, but every day.