Father's Day

The two that truly made a Father's Day possible for me.

This post isn’t for everyone. I realize that. Obviously, jump out now or at any point I lose you. 

It’s also not meant to be a pity post, a way to garner sympathy, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad about how they celebrate Father’s Day (or Mother’s Day, Grandparents Day…..whatever days you celebrate). 

I’m writing it because there’s at least one other person out there who will benefit from hearing this. This is for that person. 

After Celeste died, Mother’s Day was the first major Day (capital D) that came up. Of course I was missing her, but my heart felt truly heavy for our daughter, Emerson. Thankfully, we’d had 9 months to ease some of the raw pain we felt for her loss. We’d experienced other major holidays that helped teach us how to cope. But nothing prepared us for how difficult the first Mother’s Day without her would be (and the rest have still been plenty difficult).

That first Mother’s Day was as difficult as we expected. No amount of prior knowledge or preparation could have adequately prepared us for it. But at least we had some expectation that it would suck. And it did. What we truly were not prepared for, at least I was not prepared for it, was how awful the first Father’s Day felt. 

Growing up, Father’s Day was not a great day. My dad died when I was 7 weeks old, and while I often faced times when I was acutely aware of his absence, Father’s Day seemed to be an entire day dedicated to his absence. As I aged and matured, I was able to focus less on his absence and more on the fact that I had grandfathers, uncles, and my friend’s fathers who were surrogate dads to me. That felt good. But still, it wasn’t exactly celebrating “Father’s Day” at that point. It was more, “Men in my Life” Day. 

As a young father, Father’s Day was amazing. Being a dad to Emerson is my favorite role in life, the best role I’ve ever had. I cherish it. And I still do. In some ways, I cherish it more now than I ever have. So why in the hell was that first Father’s Day as bad if not worse than the first Mother’s Day? 

There’s something called survivors’ guilt, and I can tell you, it’s real. I feel it strongly on Father’s Day, but Father’s Day has no monopoly on the feeling. It’s just that Father’s Day often feels like a reminder that Em doesn’t truly get to celebrate Mother’s Day. In some ways, it almost doesn’t feel right to set aside a day to celebrate something that I can and do celebrate every single day: Being alive and being Em’s dad. That’s something I can do every single day, anytime it comes to mind. I don’t need a special day to do it. It is nice to have that day set aside. Sure, at least it used to be when we had both a mom and a dad at home. Now that we don’t have that anymore, it feels different. 

Again, I wasn’t writing this for pity or to make anyone feel bad about how they celebrate their special days. This is for that one person out there who has experienced loss and has realized that what used to be a special day for them now feels like crap. There’s nothing wrong with you if you feel the survivors’ guilt. If you can overcome and celebrate the fact you’re here, more power to you. There’s nothing wrong with that either. I just know that some of you, some of us, feel these days differently after losing our spouses. And if that’s you, I want you to know you aren’t alone. You aren’t strange. In fact, it’s your empathy and lack of selfishness that create feeling the loss of your spouse so strongly on your special day. 

In closing, Happy Father’s Day to those dads and surrogates out there. We are needed. We are loved. And hopefully we are spreading that love to others, those who call us Dad. And if Father’s Day sucks for you, I’m feeling a kinship with you. Six years later, Father’s Day is not nearly as bad as it was that first year without Celeste, but I remember and still feel it to some extent. If that’s also you, my heart is with you today.