As you know, it was Father’s Day yesterday. I purposefully didn’t think about my Dad much yesterday. I guess I didn’t want to feel too sad. I miss him so much. He died when I was 18. I focused on my husband who is stepfather to my 19 year old son. That was easier. However, how can you not think of your own father on Father’s Day?
At church, I couldn’t help but think of him. My Dad was a very spiritual person. He raised me in the Catholic Church, which he loved. But during his mid-life years, he started searching. He brought us to Quaker meetings and eventually to the Unitarian Church. He believed deeply in God and passed that on to me. He also believed fiercely in being kind to others.
My Dad loved life. He had a huge bellowing laugh. He loved food. He baked chocolate chip cookies from scratch, loved the Dallas Cowboys, and played golf. He was a people person and was well liked by others. He was very passionate and had a temper. But when you were the apple of his eye, as I was, he could melt you with his warmth.
I mourn the fact that he never got to see me as an adult. Never got to meet my son, his grand child. I wish I could call him up sometimes or invite him to dinner. He would have appreciated my culinary attempts. But mostly I just miss being in his presence. Sitting at the kitchen table with him, talking, laughing, arguing, looking into that light brown face with the big brown eyes and great smile.
Love you Daddy. Happy Father’s Day.