Dear Dad. . .
Somehow Fathers’ Day crept up this year. Uninvited. Just appeared without much pomp and circumstance. It has become a less than favorable day in these last few years.
It is the card-filled sentimental yearly holiday reminder of what and who I will forever go without.
Last year, as the days crept closer, I found comfort in those father figures surrounding me. This year, I instead, sat with my on-going personal grief. . . no need to bother anyone else.
Why is it grief and mourning have a strange way of appearing when one least expects?
It’s like a soft-wind, now. . . a hushed whisper. . . a quiet thought. . . an understated smile follows, where just edges of one’s lips rise up ever so slightly slightly. . . It’s the knowing that although you are no longer here. . . the enduring memories will always remain.
There is something quite comforting in that. The knowing you are worthy of both. . . missing and celebrating.
The Dad Jokes- recited at family gatherings, still not that funny. . .this many years later, thus SO funny. . .
The Silly Mom-Dad Banter- she, always the serious one, bouncing off your silly- a balanced comedic performance. . .
The Endless Hours Tinkering in the Garage- not completely sure what it involved, but you sure kept at it. . .
The Rigid Punctuality Time Clock- always waiting in the car a good 30 minutes before necessary, never late. . . not ever. . .
The Yellowed Time Life Home-Improvement Books- referencing just a few pages, you could build, fix, or repair just about anything. . .
The 24 Hour Loop of Televised Soccer Games- GOOOAAALLLL- announced any time of day brought pure joy, any thought of channel changing- strictly prohibited . . .
The Indefinite Buzzing Sounds- lawn mower, edger, table-saw, didn’t matter. . .some-sort of Man-Tool, always buzzing, always . . .
The Few Words– never one for small talk. . .when you spoke, others listened. No words wasted. . .
The Predictable Weekly Schedule–
T, R= Pick-Up Soccer at a local park, M, W, R= Gym Supersets workout, Friday= Date Night with Mom, Weekends were saved for lawn, cars, and any other household duties . . . every week. . . every day. . . like clockwork. . .
For all of these reasons, I both celebrate and mourn.
I had a great dad. I have great memories. I also have grief. . .
the knowing, I didn’t fully appreciate your presence- sometimes time makes one more mindful . .
the knowing, lessons my sons will go without- Man-Tools, after-all, are a learned art. . .
the knowing, each year I will be reminded on a card-filled June holiday of a man I love. . .
Happy Fathers’ Day. . . Daddy