thoughts on my first Father's Day without a father

Yesterday was good. And sad. And a bit strange.

It was my first Father's Day without my own dad. I didn't see him or talk to him on the phone. I didn't get to tell him that I love him and how blessed I am to have him as a father. I spent most the day purposely NOT thinking about him and his absence from a day that, for the majority of my life, revolved around him.

my daddy and baby me

I didn't write a post last year at this time (I was totally new to this whole blogging thing... starting my blog in May and then not posting again until near the end of August! Blog FAIL.), so I don't remember when I talked to him that day or what exactly was said. I don't remember if it was a good day for him or if it was day where he really struggled with the effects of his brain surgeries from earlier in the year.

I wonder if I would have made the effort to remember all the details if I had known that it would be his/our last Father's Day.

Probably, he talked to Liam and Simon for longer than he talked to me. It's fun to listen to the nonsense of a 1 1/2 year old and the Lego-filled ramblings of a 5 year old. Little boys who didn't have any expectations or judgments. Little boys who didn't worry and didn't have to hide the fear in their voices.

When it was my turn, I'm sure I did most of the talking. I think that he was still having a hard time speaking and finding his words at this time last year. Once so articulate and eloquent, the surgeries that were performed (and the infection that followed) greatly impaired the language center of his brain. So I likely talked while he listened.

And I likely cried a little after hanging up.


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Of course we still celebrated here, but we were celebrating Peter, my children's father. One of my reasons for starting this blog was to be able to document the little things that happen in our lives. I know my children will remember the big events, birthdays, Christmases, getting their drivers licenses, graduation, weddings, etc. I wanted this to be a record of the little things that go on in our lives. I hope that they will be able to look back and see -through the fights and mistakes and any misfortunes that may fall- how much they were loved.

How much they ARE loved.

My boys are so blessed to have the father that they do. Their heavenly Father did a great job in picking Peter out for them! He may not be the perfect parent (neither of us are), but he loves them with the kind of love that moves mountains. I know that sounds like a bit of a cliche (it definitely sound like a line from a cheesy song!), but there really is nothing that he wouldn't do for them.

He's the kind of dad who will learn the words to a specific song that his boys insist be sung each night before bed... even though he doesn't really like to sing.

He's the kind of dad who will spend HOURS sitting on the hard floor, bent over bins full of Lego, because his son wants him to build a catapult... even though it's supposed to be his day to relax.

He's the kind of dad who will play silly games and make strange noises in order to coax a few more bits into his toddler... even though on the inside he's screaming, "Just. Eat. It. Already!"

He's the kind of dad who shares his bed with his infant sons and endure kicks and punches all night long... even though he'd rather said infant slept in his crib.


So thank you, Peter, for loving these boys so perfectly and for loving their mom, too.

Happy Father's Day... a day late, but I know that doesn't surprise you!