It's Father's Day here in North America…and the only thing I'm excited about is the season finale of “American Gods” on Starz tonight. Color me aloof AF. Last year was spent on a pillow of tears the first half of the day followed by snowballs and lamentations that evening. Today, I have what seems to be the beginnings of a sinus infection and a fistful of anger. I'm mad as hell that I can't call my dad or grandfathers.
I'm sure some of you are thinking, “Doesn’t she have a husband who is the father of her son?” Why, yes. Yes I do. He's downstairs doing dad things with our toddler. Guess what though…I. Don't. Feel. Like. Participating. This. Year. I felt guilty about these feelings for about 10 minutes. But then it dawned on me. This is part of MY process. If I wanna be pissed today, I have that right. If I wanna fuss at my dad for dying and leaving me fatherless at 35, I have that right. If I wanna bench myself for the day and watch SpongeBob Squarepants and wait for the Gildan underwear commercial to come on repeatedly, it's my prerogative.
So to those who have lost their dads are still feeling the anxiety and anguish that accompanies a Father's Day without them in the physical, feel however you feel. Deal however you wish. If you want to wish someone Happy Father’s Day on social media, do that. If you ain't feeling it, don't. I personally am not, and this year I'm fine with canceling the day and festivities. My husband knows he's appreciated every day. He sees it in our son’s eyes when he comes home from work. He sees it every weekend the way our son refuses to leave his side for even a second. He's OK with it being just another Sunday with him free to do whatever he sees fit (he chose solo grocery shopping since the weather isn't permitting a day long excursion on his Harley). I'm blessed to have his understanding.
Note: This day will end with snowballs as well. All the syrupy, sugary, condensed milk covered goodness. Screw my diet.