I’ve never been big on anniversary-type, annual celebrations. I always have to do the math to figure out how long I’ve been married (12 or 13 years) or how long I’ve been sober (one more year than married) and I barely acknowledge my birthday (unless its for a blog post.) The people I love might get a call with well wishes on or around their birthday/anniversary…or not…since I don’t keep a calendar and, therefore, must rely on my less than stellar memory for dates to keep it all straight.
But all that seems to have changed since both of my parents died last April. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, his birthday, her birthday, Mother’s Day and, now, Father’s Day. The weight of their absence is profound and haunting. They were so young, the thought drops into my mind before I can protect myself from it. I can’t believe they are gone.
But I will celebrate Father’s Day this Sunday. With my husband who has been a fantastic father to his three children. With my father-in-law whose devotion to family and hard work was infused into my family through his son.
And, in the midst of the celebration of the wonderful fathers in my life, I will also mourn Father’s Day. The days left unlived and the words left unsaid. I guess it can’t hurt to say them now.
I love you dad. Happy Father’s Day.
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