I started dreading Father's Day about a month ago. Certain... okay... many holidays are difficult for me and there seems to be a direct correlation between this and to my first husband's untimely death.
Some are worse than others and they sneak up on me. They shouldn't; but they do. I begin to feel an overwhelming sadness; nothing matters, I don't care about anything and I can become inconsolable and I don't understand what is wrong with me. My friends and or husband have to point out to me that it is probably related to Paul's death and feelings of guilt and unresolved mourning. This makes sense to me and then I begin the process of feeling more in control because my sadness now has a name and I can have it over for tea and get to know it better.
So, knowing this about me, and understanding that I've begun to recognize this phenomenon, you can understand why I would begin dreading Father's Day in advance. Memorial Day (usually falling on Paul's birthday) kicked my butt. I was deeply depressed for a week and felt helpless to do anything about it. I was worried Father's Day would be a killer.
I mean really, let's think aloud about it for just a minute.
I have four kids. Their father died after a long and severely debilitating illness that left him in a nursing home, on a ventilator unable to speak and weighing in at about 88 pounds the last two years of his life. That really sucks. These kids essentially had no one to be their dad at home for 6 years. And much of that time Mom was emotionally distant and lost. Kids deserve better than that.
Now - my dad - a whole 'nother can of worms. My dad is in prison for what I consider to be unspeakable crimes against someone I love very much. Today is also his birthday. He turned 68 years old today. Alone. In a State Penitentiary.
I think it's easy to see why I would be worried that I might start to get emotional at the least, or deeply depressed, at the worst, on Father's Day.
But here's the truth of it. I did okay. Except for getting a bit weepy during a Father's Day prayer at church. I did good. And do you know why I think I did good? One word. Herb.
Herb is my husband of nearly two years. I refer to him as my 'big hairy man'. Though truthfully, he's really not all that hairy. He just has a woolly beard.
Which I like.
And won't let him shave off.
Surprisingly he has turned out to be a great dad. I got the impression from his ex-wife he wasn't a good dad. I've learned that it apparently takes a good wife to make a man feel safe to be a good dad. So, she was wrong.
Today, I told Herb, "Thank you."
"For what?" he asked.
"For being a good dad." I said.
"I'm not a good dad. I'm just an average joe."
"No you're not. You 'Father' the way you do because you are actually interested in the kids becoming good people. Average joes 'father' that way because they don't want to have to get out of their chair and supervise or help. When you say no it's because it's good for them. Not good for you. Look where we are? You're here. Volunteering at the softball tournament snack shack with all the kids. And our kid isn't even playing in the tournament. That's awesome. It sets a good example."
"Oh. Well - I guess that's true." He said
"Yes it is. So, thank you."
And I squeezed him.
Really hard.
And He grunted.
But it was a happy grunt.
Some are worse than others and they sneak up on me. They shouldn't; but they do. I begin to feel an overwhelming sadness; nothing matters, I don't care about anything and I can become inconsolable and I don't understand what is wrong with me. My friends and or husband have to point out to me that it is probably related to Paul's death and feelings of guilt and unresolved mourning. This makes sense to me and then I begin the process of feeling more in control because my sadness now has a name and I can have it over for tea and get to know it better.
So, knowing this about me, and understanding that I've begun to recognize this phenomenon, you can understand why I would begin dreading Father's Day in advance. Memorial Day (usually falling on Paul's birthday) kicked my butt. I was deeply depressed for a week and felt helpless to do anything about it. I was worried Father's Day would be a killer.
I mean really, let's think aloud about it for just a minute.
I have four kids. Their father died after a long and severely debilitating illness that left him in a nursing home, on a ventilator unable to speak and weighing in at about 88 pounds the last two years of his life. That really sucks. These kids essentially had no one to be their dad at home for 6 years. And much of that time Mom was emotionally distant and lost. Kids deserve better than that.
Now - my dad - a whole 'nother can of worms. My dad is in prison for what I consider to be unspeakable crimes against someone I love very much. Today is also his birthday. He turned 68 years old today. Alone. In a State Penitentiary.
I think it's easy to see why I would be worried that I might start to get emotional at the least, or deeply depressed, at the worst, on Father's Day.
But here's the truth of it. I did okay. Except for getting a bit weepy during a Father's Day prayer at church. I did good. And do you know why I think I did good? One word. Herb.
Herb is my husband of nearly two years. I refer to him as my 'big hairy man'. Though truthfully, he's really not all that hairy. He just has a woolly beard.
Which I like.
And won't let him shave off.
Surprisingly he has turned out to be a great dad. I got the impression from his ex-wife he wasn't a good dad. I've learned that it apparently takes a good wife to make a man feel safe to be a good dad. So, she was wrong.
Today, I told Herb, "Thank you."
"For what?" he asked.
"For being a good dad." I said.
"I'm not a good dad. I'm just an average joe."
"No you're not. You 'Father' the way you do because you are actually interested in the kids becoming good people. Average joes 'father' that way because they don't want to have to get out of their chair and supervise or help. When you say no it's because it's good for them. Not good for you. Look where we are? You're here. Volunteering at the softball tournament snack shack with all the kids. And our kid isn't even playing in the tournament. That's awesome. It sets a good example."
"Oh. Well - I guess that's true." He said
"Yes it is. So, thank you."
And I squeezed him.
Really hard.
And He grunted.
But it was a happy grunt.
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