Sunday, June 18.
This year, the date is highlighted on my calendar for two reasons. There are two reasons to celebrate, yet there are two reasons to mourn.
We honor fathers, those men who love and teach their children throughout their lives. It is also the birthday of one of my closest friends. And I can't wish a happy day to either of them.
My dad's been gone for more than six years. Father's Day brings back a little sting. But it probably also renews my appreciation for him. He provided a good life for us. Sure, we had our rough spots. But in hindsight, a lot of things he said or did that annoyed me when I was young were done in love. Everyone shows that in a different way. We weren't particularly overtly affectionate, but he always reminded me to "stay with the group" and "watch for deer." That, my friends, is love. I know I've inherited a lot of his characteristics, some for better, some for worse. I've been cleaning out some old boxes of mementos lately, and every day I come across a card or note that is uniquely Daddy. I've recycled a lot of old paper, but some of these are going right back in the "keep" box.
That close friend has been gone only seven months. That sting is still fairly fresh. Surely, life still goes on for the rest of us. We had so much in common, yet I still had so much to learn from her. We knew each other like only close girlfriends can, yet there was still so much to share with each other. She knew how much she was loved and by how many people. Of that, I have no doubt. Yet there were still so many lives she could have touched. I have mementos. I have text messages. I have this blog, which I might not have started writing without her encouragement. And, in spite of her, I will always have my Oxford Comma.
Although this day can feel somewhat melancholy, I'm not going to shed any tears. OK, there might be a few misty moments. But I am going to celebrate this day. I am going to celebrate the relationship I had with Daddy. So many don't have that privilege for more reasons than can be counted. I am going to celebrate the birth of one of my dearest friends. So many have never developed that sort of bond with another person. I am going to celebrate two amazing people with whom I was blessed to spend time.
So light the grill. Raise a glass. Make a phone call. Share a hug. Say thank you.
Today. Any day. Every day.
Make those memories today, and may you treasure them for all your tomorrows.
This year, the date is highlighted on my calendar for two reasons. There are two reasons to celebrate, yet there are two reasons to mourn.
We honor fathers, those men who love and teach their children throughout their lives. It is also the birthday of one of my closest friends. And I can't wish a happy day to either of them.
My dad's been gone for more than six years. Father's Day brings back a little sting. But it probably also renews my appreciation for him. He provided a good life for us. Sure, we had our rough spots. But in hindsight, a lot of things he said or did that annoyed me when I was young were done in love. Everyone shows that in a different way. We weren't particularly overtly affectionate, but he always reminded me to "stay with the group" and "watch for deer." That, my friends, is love. I know I've inherited a lot of his characteristics, some for better, some for worse. I've been cleaning out some old boxes of mementos lately, and every day I come across a card or note that is uniquely Daddy. I've recycled a lot of old paper, but some of these are going right back in the "keep" box.
That close friend has been gone only seven months. That sting is still fairly fresh. Surely, life still goes on for the rest of us. We had so much in common, yet I still had so much to learn from her. We knew each other like only close girlfriends can, yet there was still so much to share with each other. She knew how much she was loved and by how many people. Of that, I have no doubt. Yet there were still so many lives she could have touched. I have mementos. I have text messages. I have this blog, which I might not have started writing without her encouragement. And, in spite of her, I will always have my Oxford Comma.
Although this day can feel somewhat melancholy, I'm not going to shed any tears. OK, there might be a few misty moments. But I am going to celebrate this day. I am going to celebrate the relationship I had with Daddy. So many don't have that privilege for more reasons than can be counted. I am going to celebrate the birth of one of my dearest friends. So many have never developed that sort of bond with another person. I am going to celebrate two amazing people with whom I was blessed to spend time.
So light the grill. Raise a glass. Make a phone call. Share a hug. Say thank you.
Today. Any day. Every day.
Make those memories today, and may you treasure them for all your tomorrows.
