Father’s Day has become a day in which I don’t exactly know what to do with myself. I don’t know if I should keep busy or be calm, be around folks or take time to myself. I don’t know if I should celebrate or mourn, be thankful or cry, or give myself permission to feel every emotion in the book. Do I do something special in remembrance, or do I attempt to live a normal day?
Writing often helps me piece together my thoughts and order them in a healthy way so that my poor heart and brain are not struggling at maximum capacity. There are rare times in which those writings come out in the open to be shared though. Father’s Day is going to be one of those times.
A second Father’s Day has passed where I am blessed that this June day not only serves as a reminder of loss. I praise everything worth praising for that reality. I am blessed with “The Incredible Chad” (super hero title, perhaps?) who has loved us, supported us, and served as an incredible father to us for so long. Not everyone gets two incredible men in their lives, and we’re quite lucky for that.
Unfortunately, a second Father’s Day has also passed which no longer solely represents a day of joy and appreciation. It has and forever more will serve as a reminder of loss, of grief, and of a deep and unexplainable shade of pain.
While I strive so hard to continue seeing Father’s Day also as a celebration of my dad’s life, there is always the reality that it is never again to be the same. It seems that the two can confusingly fit together so well. It is a celebration, it is an appreciation, it is a day of love. It is a void, it is a sadness, it is a loud and unending reminder of loss. I look through picture after picture, letter after letter, and pour over memories in order to remember and celebrate what was, but it is with a heavy heart that I am again and again reminded that there is not a chance for what will be.
Things are unfair, we know. Sometimes death seems to be the most unfair though. I think that when you experience loss, and the pure heaviness that comes along with it all, you are at least at times allowed to feel as though yours is the most unfair. I feel that way about my dad. I feel that way when I remember how he had to spend his last days, months, and years. I felt that way when I was in the deepest places of pain that I can imagine a person tolerating. I feel that way when I remember how hopeful I was to see him again and for what the future would hold for us all. I felt that way when we were unable to say goodbye. I feel that way when I think of how much more of our lives we should have been able to share with him. I felt that way when I first did a double take when I thought I saw him on the street. I feel that way when it gets harder for me to remember his voice and his laugh. I feel that way all the time. And pain demands to be felt.
Living with loss is something that you will never understand until you have to understand it. And for the sake of all who love, I pray that that day doesn’t find you soon. It isn’t a kind day, and from that point on the view is forever different.
May the sun bring you new energy every day, bringing light into the darkness of your soul.
May the moon softly restore you by night, bathing you in the glow of restful sleep and peaceful dreams.
May the rain wash away your worries, and cleanse the hurt that sits in your heart.
May the breeze blow new strength into your being, and may you believe in the courage of yourself.
May you walk gently through the world, keeping your loved one with you always, knowing that you are never parted in the beating of your heart.
-Native Apache Grief Blessing
Radishes & Rutabagas 
This touched and moved my soul, Sarah. Though I have not experienced the grief of losing a parent, this resounds through my being towards a different matter, and I am thankful for you words. I wish that the pain expressed here wasn’t one that you had to experience and carry. But know that you are loved, and whether you experience all the feelings or none of them, there are a bounty of folks that love you and support you.
Sarah,
Recently I’ve asked myself how two people can manage to love one another to all ends yet break each other’s hearts in one instance, simultaneously.
This question came when I learned that my stubbornness and unwillingness to be vulnerable have led to not only my sinking despair but my Dad’s also. This awareness broke my heart. And in that moment, the pain manifesting in mine and his relationship seemed unique to the rest of the world; similar to what you said, I know I thought, “Surely no one else hurts as badly as I do right now and no one has a father that they can love and despise so much at the same time.” Even in a moment when my emotions are teeming with disappointment or near anger, I imagine losing him and the grief is unbearable. But this grief prevails any disappointment or anger. I mean, to be so upset at his insensitivity but aware of my undefinable prevailing love for him, a combination that made me sob for two solid hours, all goes to show how we are asked to love one another. Thank you for your reminder of what loss can mean. I pray for your energy, your restoration, your peace of mind, your strength, and our walk.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.
Jaimie