Happy Father’s Day to all of the forgotten dad’s
I dread Father’s Day. It accompanies my birthday every year, and it gets a little more challenging every year. I am split on emotions during the week leading up to and during the two events. Father’s Day is better than my birthday because I can split the time into thanksgiving and gratitude for my Dad.
I have a great Father. I love reveling in the wisdom that he gave me over the years. I laugh at how much correct advice he gave me. Each year, more revelations pan out to be true. When I was a teenager and a young man trying to carve out my place in the world, little that he told me made sense or felt just. Now that I am in my forties, I smile and sigh at some of the tenants he gave. I should have listened to him.
I have little regret on that end, though. As a son, I still went to my Father for advice, even if I disagreed. I still believed my Dad could fix anything and solve any problem. I always kept sight of that. I know I didn’t appreciate it or tell him enough how much it all meant to me. I still have time to do that.
The painful end of Father’s Day creeps in. I am divorced, and two of my adopted kids don’t talk to me. I hate getting the…
