Father's Day · Jun 6, 09:50 AM by Mike
I’ve never been one to buy into what I think are Hallmark Holidays, but I would be lying if I said I had not thought on multiple occasions last year, “I’ll actually be a father next Father’s Day.”
I cannot even begin to predict what I’ll be feeling next Sunday, though I know I wish it was over. Perhaps I will find myself focusing on my first Father’s Day with my daughter, but I think my first Father’s Day without my father will permeate my thoughts.
And it’s OK if it does, because clearly I’m still very much in the grieving process. I’ve dealt with the loss of three of my four grandparents, and a Great Aunt and Uncle that were much like an extra pair of grandparents, but that pain is so profoundly different than what the last three months have brought on.
The ups and downs are brutal. One moment you feel thankful that he’s no longer suffering, and the next moment you feel anger that he even had to deal with it in the first place. And then you think about how you miss him and get upset at the thought that you never get to see him again.
We went to an amusement park a few weeks ago, and it took every ounce of strength I had to not start crying in line for a roller coaster. My dad loved roller coasters, and in line I would start thinking about riding with him at Hershey Park as a kid and get choked up. I began to feel like I had been punched in the stomach, which is not necessarily the feeling you want when you’re about to put your own life in the hands of some rickety-ass wood structure, in a car operated by some kid who is barely going to graduate high school in a few weeks.
It is unexpected things like this that really have been throwing me for a loop. I’ll see an old Chevy on the road and wonder what year model it is, thinking to myself, “My dad would know.”
I see an article like this and picture him saying, “They’ll regret it,” and then imagine him going off on some rant about the stability of mainframes, which is what he worked with for a living.
I’ve got so many fond memories of things we had done together, the things he taught me and the good times we shared. But just as those thoughts begin to bring along a smile, I think about the things we didn’t get to do, the things I was too ignorant to learn from him, and the good times we won’t get a chance to share.
It’s all, coincidentally, very much like a roller coaster. And I wish I were a kid again so that I could grab his hand and ask him if we could just get off the ride…
“My dad would know.”
That’s one of the hardest parts, in my opinion. There have been so many times where I have thought about something and then wished I could ask my mom for the answer. Stupid things like “Was I raised on cloth diapers?” When I have those moments, it feels like a roadblock. I try to find other ways around by going through my sister and my grandmother. I can usually find some comfort by talking to the other people that knew my mom that are still around. However, sometimes there is no way around the roadblock. There are some things that only my mom would know. That’s when it hits, and that’s when it hurts. I also get sad when I think about how my mom never got to see me get married, but on the other hand, she watched me grow up, she watched me graduate from college, and she watched me become an independent person. She was proud of me, and she knew I was ready to be on my own. I know your dad was proud of you, and he died knowing that you were going to be alright. That’s important.
-Brian
— Brian Jun 6, 11:41 PM #