Happy Father's Day, Dad

Father's Day tends to be a hard day for me.

My dad committed suicide almost fifteen years ago now. And just like holidays such as his birthday, my birthday, and Christmas, Father's Day brings some challenges. Some years more than others. I can never predict when it will be difficult. Looks like this year is going to be one of those years. 

Because it seems that the older I get, the more I miss him. Every day that passes by, there are more things that have happened in my life and in my children's lives that he has not been here to share.

On one level, Father's Day is just another reminder that I don't have one. And that always makes me sad.

Especially considering the circumstances of why I don't have one. I don't have a dad in my life right now because he made a choice to exit this world.  I get why he did this. He was bipolar and he was very, very sick. It was like he had a cancer from which he could never recover. So much pain. So much heartache. So little quality of life. For so, so long.

In the end, my dad was tired. He was very, very tired and the only way he could get relief was to end it all.

I completely understand it. But sometimes it makes me angry. On days like Father's Day it makes me very angry. Angry that he even had this disease to begin with. Angry that in spite of everything he tried, my family tried, nothing seemed to help. Angry that he was robbed of a life that he could enjoy. Angry that he's been dead for fifteen years and I still can feel so keenly, in a moment, in an instant, that he's still dead. Like a fire hose waking me up from my sleep I can sometimes bolt up realizing: my dad is still dead, he's never coming back. Still. After all this time.

Mostly I just miss him.

When he was feeling well, my dad was my biggest fan. He adored me. He supported me. He helped me. He teased me. He protected me. He told me I was beautiful.

I miss that feeling. That feeling that starts at the beginning of I-can't-remember, that feeling from the beginning of consciousness and awakening that told me I was safe. That I was sheltered from harm. That no matter what, I really could do no wrong because his love for me was completely unconditional. And it was mine, mine to hold in my heart like a talisman, a warm piece of gold that gave me value, strength, and confidence.

I am surprised that at the age of 44 how much I still seem to need that, how much I miss it. I get it from other people, other places, but not the feeling of safety that goes back to the origin of my emerging self. And though I do carry his love with me, since his illness and his death, it seems to have faded. There isn't the reminder, the touch I would get if he were coming over to help Mark with a house project, or if he were visiting us for Sunday dinner, attending one of the girls' concerts or recitals, offering up some advice on the phone, shaking up a mean batch of margaritas, or giving me a hug when I needed one.

There are other fathers in my life that I will celebrate on Sunday, of course. There is Mark, the best step-dad any mom of two girls could ever hope for. There is my father-in-law, Mick, who is supportive and interested, and who I know loves me very much. And I will think of my ex-husband, Reed, the father of my children and the memories of our beginning, so full of love and laughter. (Also a difficult path to go down on this day.)

But today, pre-Father's Day, I'm thinking of Mel, my dad. The man who loved my mother. The man who taught me about nature, the stars, music, math, how the physical world works, how to build a fire, how to make the best farmer's breakfast, and a million other daddy-to-daughter truths that I carry with me every second of every day that I breathe.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. I see you in the moon, I feel you in the wind, I speak to you in the night, I carry you in my heart. Yesterday, today, and always I will love you.

Comments

[Melissa]

Hi Cath,
Just wanted to send a little squeeze your way. Your post made me cry---I am so sorry for what you've had to deal with and continue to. I hope you'll feel his love when you need it most.
Melis

[Mick Spencer]

Hi Catherine:

I too almost cried reading your beautiful post, even before you mentioned me!

Love, Mick

[Rachel Greig]

Cath - I too am sending hugs your way. xx

[marta]

that was such a beautiful tribute. you write your feelings, conflicting as they may seem inside, so eloquently. thank you for sharing your heart. and may you have a lovely day with your hubby.