As We Approach Father’s Day

My dad died when I was sixteen.  I’ve had more years without him than with at this point. The whole situation bums me out. 

I’m not overly emotional or nostalgic anymore; I’m more disappointed. I feel proud of what I’ve done in my career, my marriage, my children. But the praise and respect of parents is irreplaceable. 

Parents are yin and yang, good cop/bad cop, a balance.  My mother is all praise and positivity.  I think my dad would provide the vital constructive criticism that isn’t my mother’s forte.  Or maybe I’ve just invented that in my private what-if world.

I go through times when I think about my dad all the time. I remind myself of him (if that’s even possible).  And then I’ll go days or weeks without a thought in his direction.  No guilt, just fact.

And honestly, Father’s Day isn’t the worst day.  I have my husband to celebrate and a wonderful step dad as well.  And all Jeff wants is to watch golf, so that’s easy. 

So Father’s Day is approaching. I miss mine.

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