Monday, June 13, 2011

Father's Day

Sunday marks the beginning of a very difficult time for me.

It begins with Father's Day. I tend to hide myself away for Father's Day. I avoid church, the barbecues, the parties, the celebration and lock myself in my house - usually in my room. I have that option because my children always go to their dads' that weekend.

I miss my dad. I miss him every day. The ache of missing him turns into gut splitting agony on the day everyone shows their dad how much they love and appreciate him. I would do anything for just one more Father's Day. One more minute even. I love my dad. I miss him.

A short four days after Father's Day comes Daddy's birthday. This year he would have been 66 years old. Would have been...

We'll have a cake. Probably lemon since Dad loved lemon. I probably get my love of lemon cake from him.

Two days after that my mom has her birthday. I am thankful every day that Mom is still around - even the days we disagree and she frustrates me to no end. But even Mom's birthday makes me sad now. You can see in her eyes, in her voice, in her expressions that her life is incomplete without Dad at her side.

July 4th was my parents' anniversary. They married July 4, 1969 and this year they would have been married 42 years.

The hardest of all the days come a month later. On August 6th, 2006 I received the phone call that would change my life. It was Mom telling me Dad was on the way to the hospital via amubulance, that they had restarted his heart but he was unconcious.

Less than 24 agonzing hours later Dad died on August 7, 2006.

I don't know how I will spend that day. Maybe I'll make a trip to his grave site. I've only been there twice: the day we buried him and at Thanksgiving that same year. I just can't bring myself to go. It makes it feel too real.

I guess often I live in a fantasy world. I will think "conversations" with my dad, asking his advice, imagining what he'd say. It's been a long time since I picked up the phone ready to call him then remembering he isn't there to answer the phone.

The place in the world I felt safest was sitting on the couch beside Dad. Because of his heart condition you could almost always find him there. He'd lift his arm up and say "come here Anna-babes" and I'd sit beside him, as close as I could get and we'd just sit and watch tv and talk. I'd drive him crazy watching movies, trying to figure out what other shows and movies the characters were in. I guess he'd really appreciate my discovery of eh?

I miss my Dad.


  1. I'm your first commenter! Cool!

    Have you read Evelyn Wilson's stuff on Facebook at all? She's the mom of Katie who died in February, when she was almost 16.

    Anyway, Evelyn always ends all her updates with admissions that she is crying buckets, but that "Tears mean love". And I like that. Tears mean love.

    That doesn't make it easier, of course, but I don't think we need to run away from tears. They're part of who we are. And I'm glad you have that memory of how much your dad loved you (and still does).

  2. That Sheila - she's so wise. I love that imagery of crying buckets, because it's exactly how it feels, isn't it? Tears mean love.


    Hang in, A. I don't know how you move past the agony of anniversaries and missing him - I don't think you will. But it WILL get easier to breath through it all. And when you're ready, those dates will be sad, but ALSO joyful, because of the remembering.