Father's Day

Father's Day is tomorrow, and I approach the holiday with a combination of sadness, anger, and guilt. As you may or may not know, my father died when I was thirteen. He died after a divorce from my mom which allowed me to see him only every other weekend, and sometimes not even that much. I can't remember many phone calls, birthday cards, or Christmas gifts from him before he passed.

What I can remember, though, is how he looked the last time I saw him. He was progressively getting sicker and sicker, so my mom drove me to see him. He looked a little thinner, a little grayer, but he greeted me with a smile and spent all of his time trying to make me as comfortable as possible--getting me snacks and drinks, asking me about my life, cracking jokes to make me smile. I left not knowing that would be the last time we would speak. Not much later, I awake one Sunday morning with a feeling of dread--I knew that day was my father's last day on Earth. And sure enough, Mom came in later that night with tears in her eyes to tell me the news.

Each year it's gotten tougher and tougher to remember the small details about our relationship, and I am so ashamed of that. He is half of what I am, and I want to make sure that mi children know about their skinny, funny, Kentucky Wildcats-loving grandfather. My dad's side of the family doesn't have much to do with me. The last time I saw them was at my high school graduation four years ago; I sent them an invitation to my college graduation with no reply or response whatsoever. It hurts, but I'm just waiting for them to come around. I shouldn't have to beg them to be a part of my life.

Last night some of the girls were talking about the gifts they got their father's for tomorrow, and I just stayed quiet. I have nothing to give and no one to give it to. I want to take a trip to where my dad is buried, but since I'm working tomorrow I won't be able to do that--it will have to wait. I want to find something special to take when I go, something to show Daddy that I haven't forgotten him and don't intend to. Everyone always says my mom and I look just alike, to which I reply, "Well, you've never seen my dad." I hope he's proud of the things I've done; I miss him more and more every day.