There have been a few days throughtout this past year where I've been extra concerned about my mother. Thanksgiving. New Year's Eve. His birthday. All the firsts she'd have to spend alone after my father died last July.
But this day is more about my siblings and me.
It's Father's Day. The first we will spend without one.
The reminders are everywhere, thanks to Hallmark. Sawyer and I went to buy David a Father's Day gift today and stopped to pick out a card.
"Look at the one with the monkey!" Sawyer gleefully shouted.
I found the card he was pointing to. Then I stopped.
"Sorry, buddy, this one's for a grandfather."
We kept looking, through cards about gross bodily functions, barbecuing, golf, asking for money and fixing stuff - you know, the things that dads are apparently made of.
I remember picking out those kinds of cards for my father when I was growing up. But the thing is, I can't remember what we actually did on Father's Day. So I called my mom. First she claimed that they were married on Father's Day, July 21, 1959. But I don't that's possible, since isn't Father's Day on the second Sunday in June? Wait, she said, maybe it was the first day of summer (and yes, they would've been married 49 years next week).
Regardless. She said we didn't really do much. Sometimes the grandparents would visit. Mostly, my Dad would watch sports on TV.
Which is, apparently, why I don't have any particular memories of the day. I find that kind of sad, and it's made me determined to start a tradition for my own kids - so that, someday when they are facing their first Father's Day without one, they can look back at pictures or into their memories and smile, knowing that it was special.
Happy Father's Day, Dad...
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