Today is Father’s Day and I’m lucky to be sharing it with a wonderful dad. A man who brings home sweets on a Friday for his children, despite the fact the eldest is twenty six! A man who gets abuse if he forgets their ‘order’ from shopping. The one who gives lifts when I
say, “you can walk.” The one who cannot see, even for a moment, that one of his children may have a flaw of any nature. Yes today I salute ‘Yer man’, the most loving, wonderful Dad I could ever have wished for, for my children.
But he is not my Dad!
As I do my best to spoil the Father of my children today, inside a part of me aches. Each time I hear, ‘Happy Fathers Day’ I hurt. It is not easy to celebrate today when I have no Dad to call.
You’d think after almost thirty years I’d be used to it, but the missing is forever. I miss his voice, his presence, his humour. I miss the fact he never saw my children, or walked me down the aisle. Motor Neurone Disease robbed me of my Dad and I am still not over it.
However in those moments when I miss Dad, I am reminded of my wedding day.
The day arrived and I worried I’d not get through it without breaking down. In particular I fretted about walking up the aisle and how I’d manage to hold it together. But with my hand held tight by my younger brother I got there in one piece. My next big obstacle would be the speeches, but I’d given clear instructions I did not want my Dad mentioned, as it would hurt too much.
But what are younger brothers for, if not to annoy you. As the speech, which was full of laugh out loud memories, was drawing to a close, he paused and said,
“When Patricia was a child she used to pretend to take pictures with a camera. She’d stand on a chair and shout, ‘Daddy watch me’ or more correctly, ‘Daddy wah me.’ Well my dearest sister, today I have no doubt that Dad is indeed watching you, as he will continue to always watch you and your children and your children’s children.
So today as perhaps I shed a tear for the Dad I miss dearly, I will also remember my brothers words and take comfort from the hope that my dad is indeed watching me today, as I whisper, “Happy Fathers Day.”