Where are you? What are you doing?
I wish I knew.
Today, is a day to celebrate and be thankful for father’s. It’s hard to be thankful for just memories. I want to be grateful. But Instead, I feel bereft. Lost. When I peruse through shops it’s all very tangible. Cards, presents.
But you are not tangible. My father’s day is a sort of mirage. I can celebrate and be thankful, but only for the past. Because you’re not here. Every day of the year I have to live with that knowledge.
So today, can I pretend you are real? On Father’s Day, can I pretend that things are as they were, that you are still here?
Maybe we’ll go for lunch. I’ll tell you about what I’m writing. I’ll tell you how Barns loved his first stay-and-play session at big school this week. How he told a TA that he had made a monster out of playdoh. When asked if it was friendly, he said no. When asked if it ate teachers, he said yes. When asked if he would protect the teachers from this monster, he said no. It was a good first impression.
I’ll tell you about how Eddy told me that a tiny yellow fleck on her duvet cover was a minion, and that she asked me, “do you want to tuddle him?”
You’ll laugh. Because I’ll tell it in such a way that I know will make you laugh.
I’ll give you a funny card. But will write nice things inside. Because you showed me how to use words to express love.
I’ll probably give you photos of us, for a present. That’s always what you asked for. Photos to remind you of what matters most.
I’ll tell you about my current struggles. You’ll mostly just say you understand. I’ll feel better. We’ll talk about food. Our latest health discoveries and triumphs in the kitchen.
I’ll feel your love for me, delight in me, and your contagious zest for life.
I’ll laugh at your jokes and stories. Sometimes I’ll laugh so hard it hurts. I’ll enjoy every second and be sorry when we part ways.
We’ll say bye. A brief kiss on the cheek, and a “bye chick”. The goodbye of people who know they’ll be together again soon, and who innocently believe that they will, for always.
Until next time.
Love, always. Thanks for being my Dad, always.