Father's Day
I used to stand frozen in the Father’s Day card section trying to select a card for my dad.
“Daddy, thank you for always loving me, supporting me and showing me what true protection is.”
No.
“For my father, the first to love me and protect me, no matter what I will always be your little girl. Your loving daughter.”
No.
Maybe something funny?
“Dad, no one measures up to you.”
I look at the image of the measuring tape and wonder if my father even owns one, if he has ever done a project around the house.
I wonder if he will care about a Father’s Day card. Are cards meaningful to him? What is meaningful to him?
Anyway, I guess a funny card won’t work.
Where are the cards to give a man who was a provider, but not a protector, who was present, but didn’t participate? A man who never yelled, but could cut you down with a look or a sentence. A card that could capture the deep respect I felt for his code of ethics as a surgeon and the disappointment for his code of ethics as a father. Where are the cards that won’t make me sick? The ones that won’t make me feel complicit in the fantasy world he created about our relationship.
My father died 8 months ago and I have found myself circling around the emptiness of our relationship as if I am back in the Father’s Day card aisle, looking for the perfect card. I am taking my time. I am pondering the lack of tears and sadness. I am processing the lack of regret. I am noticing that 13 years after my mother’s death, despite all of the turmoil in our relationship, I frequently find myself desperately yearning to call her. I am observing that 8 months after my father’s death I haven’t wished I could speak to him once. I am allowing myself to feel the heartbreak of both truths.
I can feel myself slowly, slowly releasing the lifelong fear that it was me. That if I could just be prettier, skinnier, smarter, always smarter, he would love me…that his apathy in our relationship was somehow my fault.
I am adjusting to the new reality of being parentless at 36. I am getting used to the words in my mouth. “Both of my parents have passed. My siblings live in the Midwest, but my parents are deceased.”
I am creating space for the hollowness I feel when I think of my father. I am releasing the pressure to fill up the gap between us with whatever it takes. I am allowing myself to start looking through this kaleidoscope of grief where each turn shows me the fragmented pain of not feeling loved by him. A pain that I could not hold until he died.
I am thinking that there is no Father’s Day card for this and so I’ll write my own:
“Dad- You were my father. I am grateful for what you provided and I am heartbroken over what you did not.
I am sorry for whatever happened to you to make you unknowable. I am sorry you never got to know me.
I am sorry that you never learned the language to teach your daughter that she was cherished.
Thank you for saving countless lives. I am sorry your life’s ending was so terrible.
I will tell my children about the good work you did in service of others and I will be the opposite of you as a parent.
You were my father.”
Love you Jen. You always speak truths I can't quite grasp without you.