Redflare was upset. She didn’t officially have a gift for me for Father’s Day this year. We’ve picked it out, but we haven’t found the perfect one yet (a nice desk chair).
Father’s Day for me has always been bittersweet. I became a Dad myself as of June 1, 2002. I got my first Father’s Day a lot sooner than Redflare got her first Mother’s Day.
I had no clue what to do. I don’t recall we did anything super major, but that was fine by me.
For those that don’t know, my Dad died 15 years ago this Father’s Day (6/20/99.)
I’d planned ahead and bought his Father’s Day card at least a month before, and his gift.
I read his card at his funeral, along with what I’d written for him.
15 years later it’s still on my mind. I try to make him proud of me every day.
I think I am.
So why is every day Father’s Day?
Because every day they celebrate.
“DADDY’S HOME!” is a production. It’s a war cry. When I walk through the door everyone gathers.
It’s an honor. I’m clearly doing something right.
Even the calmer, quiet, eldest that was born in 2002… hard to believe he’s 12 now… he stands quietly and says hello or just quietly smiles as I’m swarmed.
I hug him anyway.
The next 30 minutes involve being updated on the major events of the day as I empty my pockets, wash up, and accept the impatient Thunderer who stares and squirms, demanding I take her from her mommy’s arms.
It’s why I don’t need a single, predetermined day on the calendar to celebrate.
They celebrate me every day.
Hard to top that.