As Father's Day approaches, my inbox once again overflows with advertisements urging me to GET DAD THIS WIDGET! GET DAD THAT TOOL! I guess the alternative is to disappoint Dad on his special day or something equally horrifying.
My Dad died in January of 2011, so this will be my 8th Father's Day without him. It's not a sad time though. I give a little extra thought to Dad around this time, with a quiet wish that I could share with him some of the things I've been up to, and maybe get some advice on how to handle this or that.
I'd really love to introduce him to my Grandsons; I know he'd love to meet them – and vice versa. There’s so much he could teach them! He taught me to think, to build things, to respect and be respectable. And I’ll try hard to pass along those lessons.
My thoughts also turn to my own role as a Dad to five truly wonderful young women, and I feel lucky. I feel comfortable. I feel like my Dad prepared me for this role, and the mantle seems to fit.
Make no mistake, life on the shores of Lake Estrogen can be interesting, exciting, infuriating, bewildering, fun, and sad, all within mere moments of each other. Oftentimes I end my day with a kind of mental whiplash that can be worrisome, satisfying, or both.
And here’s what I tell my daughters: I don't want anything for Father's Day. That is to say, I don't want any thing for Father's Day. A short phone call, a quick visit, a text, a card if you must; just a moment out of your day will mean more to me than all the tools in the do-it-yourself store or any of the ties in the men’s-wear department!
If you can spare a nice hug, well, that would be received warmly.
I have no real dispute with the consumer economy, but each of you are the only "things" I need. You make me feel proud, important, happy, fulfilled, and so much more. Mostly, you make me feel like I matter. And honestly, there is no greater Father's Day gift.