Darin Richins doesn’t draw attention. There is nothing mysterious about his graying beard or balding scalp. He resembles any other parent while watching his son, Josh, play for Viewmont.

He proudly claps when Josh perfectly finds his teammate for an open 3-pointer. He cheers loudly after Josh himself delivers another triple. Darin simply is another proud father lost in the crowd.

Strangers never could suspect Darin actually is a dying man hoping to reconcile his relationship with his youngest son. But when Josh’s eyes reach his father, he knows this likely is their final season together.

Josh never expected to feel sorrow. Too many times he searched the bleachers, knowing his father wasn’t there. For so much of his life – birthday dinners, the day he made varsity or the night of his first school dance – Darin was missing.

“He’s never met one of my dates,” Josh said.

Yet, this night, as Josh envisions the end of his father’s life – Darin has been diagnosed with kidney failure – his posture tightens, and his voice softens. Josh understands his father’s impending death will be harder than he ever imagined.

“There’s mixed emotions,” Josh said. “Sometimes I get frustrated with him, and then sometimes I feel sympathy for him. There’s no justifying what he’s done, but I feel I could do better with my effort toward him.”

As the third of three sons to play for Viewmont, Josh recognized an opportunity to improve their relationship. Basketball always has impacted his life, so he invited his father to finally be a part of it.

“I have seen nothing but love for his dad,” Josh’s mother, Marilee, said. “He’s very concerned about making the most out of whatever time is left.”

Fifteen years have passed since Darin and Marilee Richins separated after an 11-year marriage; Josh was just 2. Marilee drove her four sons, each two years apart, from California back to Davis County, where most of her siblings lived.

“I was terrified to raise boys,” she said. “I wanted to get close to family.”

An occasional appearance from Darin didn’t lessen Josh’s pain. The feelings of abandonment remained, from knowing his father never would stay, or worse – wondering whether he’d show up high. Josh usually recognized when Darin was wired – normally he kept to himself. But one time, Darin snapped, grabbing Josh’s shirt violently after he refused to attend a BYU football game with him. Police were forced to intervene, and Josh sought professional help from that traumatic experience.

Mostly, though, Josh simply wished for what his teammates had – the presence of a father – to coach him in athletics and life.

Extended family, coaches and neighbors filled parts of the void, but it wasn’t the same. So when the phone call interrupted a conversation between the brothers in April, the siblings fell silent, unsure of what to feel.

Their father was dying.

“We thought we should be sad, but it wasn’t there,” Josh said.

Nearing his 50th birthday, Darin’s body is feeble and skinny, resembling that of a much older man. He gets dialysis treatment three times a week. His voice is delicate and rickety. The exact cause of his kidney failure is unknown, but family suspicions point to Darin’s past drug abuse.

“I went through some dark times as a single dad, being alone and lonely,” Darin said. “In an attempt to not face it, I experimented with drugs. I’m not proud of it. Did I learn from it? Hell, yes.”

How many remaining days Darin has left is anyone’s guess. Marilee estimates six to eight months, but a simple cold could prove fatal with his depleted immune system.

Darin hopes to be listed for a kidney transplant next spring without any guarantee he will live to see the day – an unintended example for Josh to learn through his father’s choices.

“Believe it or not, he taught me,” Josh said. “I have no desire to do anything he did. I have no temptations. I’m frustrated with his decisions, but I’m thankful at the same time.”

There always is regret, Darin said, but a death sentence was an awakening he needed. There still is time, limited or not, to strengthen his relationship with each of his sons – particularly Josh, who is the most impressionable as the youngest child.

“I’m never too old to apologize or to say that I could have done better with something,” Darin said. “I’m not above saying, ‘Gosh, Josh. I’m sorry.’”

Josh found his talent in solace, soothing his troubled thoughts while developing his basketball game. As his father’s inevitable fate approaches, basketball has evolved into their common foundation.

As Josh shoots from the perimeter after practice, Darin calls the statistics: “3-for-5,” he shouts, returning the rebound.

“Three in a row gets you a milkshake,” Darin challenges.

Seven in a row whip the net before Josh playfully backs his father down into the post, banking in a layup off the glass. Mixed within the ensuing laughter is the father-son relationship they’ve always wanted.

“I’ve learned to start forgiving him,” Josh said. “I’ve held anger in for 16 years; I’m tired of it.”