I lost my father at the end of last year, not even days after I got married and a little over a month before one of my favorite holidays to celebrate with my dad, Christmas. Father’s Day holds a special place in my heart.
After my father passed away, I was going through some of his things that he kept in a small box next to his favorite chair in the living room. Little notebooks and brushes for my cat Cortana (whom he absolutely adored). What really stood out for me the most were a pile of cards that I got him for various days such as Father’s Day, his birthday, and so on. He had at least two years of cards from me, only me, in this box. My father treasured me more than anything else, and his love means so much to me.
This is the first Father’s Day I’ve had to spend without him. I can definitely feel the empty space in my chest. Things just aren’t the same. My dad is probably the biggest reason I came out okay, and I can’t thank him enough for everything he has ever done for me.
Perhaps this is why I am so easily offended by all the little posts I’ve read about how there are some people out there who genuinely feel like like Father’s Day is a joke. Of course, everyone is entitled to their own opinion. I believe that wholeheartedly, and I still respect other peoples’ opinions. It’s only fair I share my own.
Father’s Day seems to be a touchy subject for some people, especially the ones that have had negative experiences with fathers. I consider myself lucky to have had such a wonderful father. Even if it does happen to be a fake hashtag on Twitter, #EndFathersDay really does hit a sore spot for me. Yes, there are probably a lot of shitty fathers out there who don’t even deserve the title, but is it fair to call and end to something that appreciates those fathers who took care of their families and fully accepted the responsibility of being a parent?
If anything, Mother’s Day is the one that leaves a sour taste in my mouth. My mother isn’t the worst person ever, but she wasn’t the best person, either. The way she raised me contributed to my stunted emotional development that I’m still working on sorting to this day. My father was always the one who provided me with the affection that my mother was incapable of giving. He was the reassuring voice that dulled the critical edge of my mother’s criticisms. He taught me that I was okay exactly the way I was, and as long as I did my best, he was more than proud of me.
I guess I happen see things from the opposite end of the spectrum. I haven’t had all that positive of an experience with my own mother. I’ve known people who have been abused, mistreated, and abandoned by their mothers. I’ve had friends who had only their fathers to raise them when their mothers ran off. Yet you do not hear me yelling at the top of my lungs that Mother’s Day should sod right off because my mother wasn’t the healthiest parent to be raised by. Who am I to say that all mothers are horrible because mine wasn’t all that great to me?
I have a friend who is so much younger than me, yet she is such an inspirational single mother. My grandmother on my father’s side was one of the sweetest ladies alive, and she gave me nothing but love and happiness the entire time she was alive. I just know so many other inspirational mothers and grandmothers who deserve the love and affection they receive on Mother’s Day. My mother does not dictate the behavior of every other mother who deserves recognition; even then, I still cherish my mother for trying.
Just because some father figures were abysmal doesn’t mean we shouldn’t celebrate the other fathers out there who work hard to support their family, care for their children, and really make that difference in peoples’ lives. After all, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
I miss you, dad. I think about you every day. I’m glad I had you in my life, and I’m happy that I got to be as close with you as I was. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Thank you for being such a light in my life.