This may come under the heading of breaking news for those in the media but not everyone has a Father to celebrate Father’s Day with. Not everyone is planning a special day with their Pop or has been searching for the perfect Dad’s Day gift all week.
I know because I am one of those people. I have been enduring this day since 1987, the first Father’s Day after mine passed. And I do mean endure.
It’s not that it’s the only time I miss my father. I don’t think a day has gone by in the decades since he has passed that I don’t think about him. It’s just that it intensifies today. Media and advertising messages amplified by likes and shares and algorithms flooding the morning news and my Instagram feed throw the feeling of loss into overdrive and can make me feel like I am the only one. It’s not FOMO, fear of missing out. It’s knowing I am missing out.
Logically I know that’s not true. I was lucky. I had a father whose love I never doubted, who made me laugh, and who I never had to explain myself to. I have lots of happy memories of Father’s Days I did spend searching for the perfect tie or a new pair of slippers and watching him pretend I had hit the bullseye – even when I hadn’t.
But grief is rarely logical. It comes in waves and whether the loss is yesterday or in my case thirty-eight years ago in September it never goes away completely. Nor would I want it to. How deeply one grieves is directly related to how deeply they loved, so if grief is the price I have paid for having a father I loved so much, so be it.
Of course, even if he hadn’t died so young, the chances he would still be alive today are pretty slim. Born in 1921, Dad would be 103 in December. Even if his love of a cigarette and a scotch had granted him a longer life, he wouldn’t have been one of those veterans who are still alive and were celebrated this year on the 80th Anniversary of D-Day. He wasn’t at Normandy but he did spend four years of his precious youth fighting in the Army in North Africa and Italy to save the world from the fascists. It would break his heart to see the rise of anti-semitism and the threats to democracy we are facing right here in the United States. For that alone, I am okay with spending this Father’s Day without him.
Now back to the point of this. It turns out this holiday was the brainchild of Sonora Louise Smart Dodd. Her idea was spurred by a desire to honor her father who had raised her and her siblings alone after her mother died in childbirth and so on June 5, 1910, her father’s birthday, the first Father’s Day was celebrated in Spokane, Washington. It wasn’t until 1972 that President Richard Nixon declared the third Sunday in June a federal holiday. Since then it has become more commercialized every year, a way for both brands and media to make money. That’s capitalism for you.
But perhaps that’s also what’s lost in translation. The day is supposed to be about honoring fathers as Sonora Dodd wished. It’s not just about the gifting, the reservations at his favorite restaurant, and making sure there is a picture posted on Facebook to prove it’s all real. It’s about taking the time to honor, to thank, and to just be with that person you consider a father in your life. That goes for those physically still with us and those who are here in spirit.
I realize not everyone was as lucky as me. While my father died far too soon at 64, he was there during my formative years. He saw me grow up. He celebrated birthdays with me. He threatened to have McDonald’s cater my wedding just to tease me. Even when I was mad at him I loved him and never for one minute doubted his love for me, his “favorite daughter” as he would like to say. (Note: he only had one daughter so the competition was easy.)
My father may not be here to hold my hand but I will spend time this Father’s Day honoring him. I will let myself get quiet, sit for a while by the Hudson looking at the city whose streets he walked and that he loved so much, and let myself feel his presence and thank him for continuing to guide me every day.
Does this make sense? You tell me.
This article was originally posted on Does This Make Sense on Substack
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