It started the year my dad died. He didn't just DIE he committed suicide, when I was 17 months old. Harsh.
I grew up without a father. Not only that, I grew up hearing nothing but negative stories about my dad throughout my childhood (not just from my Mother either, but from most of my family). While I'm sure in some way they meant well, (in some way or another) it didn't really do much for me emotionally.
Especially when I was the only one growing up without a dad in my family.
I got to watch all of my cousins grow up with a dad AND a mom.
That sucked.
The biggest majority of my friends growing up had dads, and even if their dad didn't live IN their homes...their dad was at least...alive. I didn't have ANY friends growing up whose father was dead.
When it came out to people HOW my dad died, that was rough. The teasing, the mean things kids said (and adults too). It was hard.
I hated elementary. They would do fun things for Mother's day and I was all in to that! I was always more than happy to thank my Mother for being there for me.
However they would from time to time do things that were meant for dads. I was always left out. I literally didn't have a dad to do those things for. I hated the stupid father's day commercials on TV.
The smiling family with the mom, dad, siblings and what not. I did not have that. Not for several years anyway.
Granted I DID give my Mother cards and stuff on Father's Day, because after all she was a single mom posing as both my mom AND my dad, and I know that wasn't easy. I was a tough kid to raise.
I was not for the faint of heart.
As much as I love my Mother and appreciate the things she has done for me, it still didn't fill the fact...that my dad was dead, and I was left out of all of the father's day...stuff.
In the same respect, I'm sure Fathers day was NOT easy for my Mother either. Knowing that I didn't have dad, knowing the HARD conversations we had to have numerous times throughout my childhood. I actually remember the first time I asked her where my dad was. The answer she gave me, and the hollow, sad feeling I felt inside of me that stayed with me for years. Having to explain that kind of stuff to your child....not an easy thing to do. She had to carry around a lot of emotions most of my childhood, I know it was not easy for her at all.
There would have been NO Daddy/Daughter dances for me (like my daughter and her father get to experience every year, and I am so so so happy they get to go to together!!)
When I was fourteen my Mother remarried. My stepdad came into the picture. By this point I was just like, whatever. I have only four more years left to live at home and then I am out of here. However, I knew that my little sister who was like 3 at the time, and whose father was also not in the picture, would need a 'dad' in her life because frankly...I knew what it was like to not have a father figure in your life, and it sucked. A lot. So I bided my time until I was old enough to leave home. (ended up leaving home a couple of months before I turned eighteen).
I can't say my relationship with my stepdad was a good one. That was mostly my fault. I was a very moody teenager (aren't they all?) My theory at the time was "I already had ONE dad, and I DON'T want or NEED another one!! The one I had apparently didn't want the job, and I'm not looking to refill that position, FOUR YEARS LEFT until I'm an 'adult', I don't need no dad".
I was never close to any of the guys in my family to ever look at any of them as a father figure. My Mother had a couple of boyfriends I almost considered a father figure, but that didn't usually last long and I was back to just saying "screw it, I give up I don't need one".
Yeh that was my teenage angst attitude towards fathers. Don't need one, don't want one.
So that didn't help my relationship with my stepdad. We fought a lot. I did NOT want to get along anymore than I had to. We weren't ALWAYS at each other's throats, just mainly when he tried to over step his (what I considered) his 'fatherly' bounds.
I never called him dad. I still cannot bring myself to call him DAD. He is my step-da6d. I call him by his name as well.
Now that I'm thirty, I look back and think "Oh man. I was a little ass hole"
I was. I really really was.
My stepdad was really trying. He didn't mean to over step anything, he was just trying to BE THERE. For that, even though at the time I didn't appreciate it, I do now definitely appreciate it.
He chaperoned school dances with my Mother (at the time it humiliated me that they were there, but I am thankful they were there). They went to all of my school programs, and activities and they both cheered me on all of the time. That always made me feel so special and important, because I knew that even if NO ONE ELSE in my family showed up (which no one ever DID show up for anything I ever did, cept my Grandma while she was alive) I knew my Mother and my Stepdad and little sister would be there. He didn't have to go to any of that stuff. He didn't have to care, but he did. When I look back at memories with a FATHER, it's memories made with my stepfather in my life, those funny stories and silly times I share with my kids and that we laugh about on Christmas.
Above my daughter with her "Paw Paw" D at three months old.
Below my daughter with her "PawPaw D" at her 7th birthday party. He brought his convertible down and gave her a ride, she thought she was SUPER posh because of that.
Family photo of my Mother, my stepfather holding his favorite grand daughter, my husband and me. This was my daughters first Christmas! (Aw if only I could look that skinny and cute again, haha)
Now that I'm adult, (well not just recently either, over the past several years). I've tried to kind of amend ways and be a bit LESS of an ass hole to my stepdad (ok a lot less), because after all, he put up with all my shit. He came into our lives when I was a TEENAGER. He WILLINGLY entered that lions den. A house full of WOMEN. My Mother, my little sister who was just coming out of the 'toddler years' and was still a whiney little brat, and a TEENAGER, who was reverting BACK to being a whiney little sassy mouth toddler. That takes courage. So I give him credit for that! Unfortunately, my stepsister seems to have taken my respect for my stepfather as some kind of challenge, because it seems we butt heads quite often on where he is concerned. It's not intentional on my part. I am more of the mind that he's a grown man, he's the one who decides who he visits and when. I live three hours away (maybe four?), we're lucky if we see him once a year, it's a miracle if we see him twice or more in a year! So when he comes to visit, it's a BIG deal! I'm not trying to step on ANYONES toes. I know my Mother and stepfather are no longer married, but the fact he still wants to be a part of our lives, is quite humbling and really, really means a lot to me. Again, he has went above and beyond the call of "being a dad'.
Above: This is a photo from several years ago, but it's still one of my favorites! I don't have too many photos of the two of us, but here I am with my stepdad. Thanks again, for everything.The only thing I have left of my biological father, is a scrapbook full of photos of him, some photos of me and him when I was a baby, some of his items from when he was in the National Guard (I have the flag that was on his casket, eventually I want to get one of those beautiful wooden and glass cases to put it in to proudly display in my house other than the same old plastic bag it was stored in from the funeral home). I have my father's military jacket, and any medals or whatever that went on it, I have some other odds and ends of his too. I inherited my father's dark brown eyes (which as I've gotten older they've turned into more of a hazel), though all three of my children have those same big dark brown eyes with the lusciously long and thick eye lashes. That all comes from my biological father. I also inherited his BIG OL' BUTT. Two out of three of my children have also inherited that same old butt. He also gave me the dreaded crooked teeth. Thanks for that. Could have done without that one. Thanks to a year and a half of braces...they are much MUCH straighter (not perfect, but they are a LOOOT better than they were!). I'm build like most of the females on my dads side of the family. Short and round. Thanks for that one....
These would have been photos from my 2nd Christmas, three months before he would no longer be with us.
That's what my father gave me, DNA. I don't have a SINGLE memory with my father. No good memories, no bad memories, NOTHING. No memories of this guy what so ever. I just have to go off of other people's memories of him (and sometimes...those memories aren't good ones). I think had he died any other way...(car accident, serving in the military, ANYTHING other than suicide...that people would have talked about him differently, they would have spoke more about the good things, but because he took his OWN life and there is a terrible stigma with that....they only spoke in a negative manner about him). If I want to hear the GOOD things (which I KNOW there ARE good things about him, after all, I think I am a good person, a good 'thing' and half of my DNA came from my father...so he couldn't be ALL bad). If I want to hear the good, funny, humbling stories of my father, I have to talk to his family which I didn't have contact with until I was eighteen, and even now that I am thirty that contact is spotty at best. Partially, my own fault. What do you say to people you don't know much about? That you never heard very much good about? That when you see them...and they look just like your father, and then you end up looking a lot like him....you'd think it would be comforting, but it's not. It's not comforting at all that I look like my Father. In fact, it makes it all so much worse.
He also left behind a 14 page suicide note, and a cassette tape I have NEVER been able to listen to because I cannot bring myself to listen to his voice. So it sits in my closet in a junk box, along with the manila envelope with his note (which I have read).
My father would have celebrated a birthday on June 12th, just days before Father's Day. I don't remember a single father's day with my father. (Granted I would have only celebrated like ONE with him alive anyway, I do believe, he died right before our second father's day together). He passed away in March, three months before his next birthday, and fathers day.
So no, Father's day does not give me warm fuzzy feelings most of the time.
It gives me cranky resentment and eye rolling and huffy puffiness of all of the other people across the world oooh and awing over the wonderful father's they have and the great times they shared, and yadda yadda. It makes me want to YAK most of the time. With social media, it's just worse now. Before social media it was just TV commercials that made me scowl and change the channel. I avoid the store as much as possible during Father's day time. I hate seeing all of the cards and t shirts. (Not saying I'm not happy for people who have those warm and fuzzy father's day memories and great dads, I truly am happy for those people! But when you get flooded with it...it can eat at you JUST a TIIIINY little bit).
Probably why I haven't gone as extra of a mile as I SHOULD HAVE for my own husband for father's day over the years, which again...makes me an ass hole. This year, was pretty awesome though, and my husband has wore a big ol' smile on his face all weekend.
Above: Us this weekend. We celebrated Fathers Day on Saturday because he had to work all day today. So we drove to the lake for a lot of swimming, and a picnic lunch and some hiking. We paused for a quick selfie, because, well otherwise I have no photos of me with my husband. Love this guy. He woke up yesterday morning to home made biscuits and gravy served to him in bed, with a hot cup of coffee, and the kids delivered their gifts to him while he ate, and we had even let him sleep in. He loved his #1 Dad shirt, loved his super hero coffee cup, and his SUPER DAD, travel mug, and Incredible Hulk Fathers Day card, and home made goodies from the kids, and his favorite caramel and apple suckers.
Above: My husband, and my daughter, three months after she was born, at her first Christmas. His first time being a Daddy, was because of this little girl that he couldn't live without.
He didn't grow up with a dad either. He grew up in foster care. He had it way worse than I did in many ways. Then when he finally DID get to know his dad again, he didn't get to ever have the relationship with his father that he wanted to because his father became ill and really struggled for years, and then passed away. There is a lot of things left unsaid, and things left undone. That's a lot of baggage for my poor husband. Which is why Fathers Day IS an important holiday to my husband, because he's happy that he's been there for his children, the way his father was never there for him. By the time he was finally able to reunite with his dad and move past a lot of things, there time together was just too short. The below photo has always been one of my favorites. My daughter being loved on by her Daddy, and her Grandpa. She didn't get to see her Grandpa again until her twin brothers were born, and that was the last time she saw him, it breaks our heart they never got to spend more time together. There was no doubt in my mind that her Grandpa loved all three of his grandbabies, and he was VERY proud of the man and father his son had turned out to be, and he had not repeated any of the same mistakes he had made. In the years before his death, we knew his dad was a good man, we respected him, a lot. We were thankful for the time we DID get to spend with him. My husband will continue to learn from his father, even though his father is no longer with us.
However, even with all of that....my husband is one damn good Daddy.
He has his moments where I don't think so fondly of him, but to be fair...that's a two way street. We both know we aren't perfect and sometimes our parenting isn't always 100000% (but whose really is?).
He became a father at the age of twenty. He was scared to death. You can read my post I wrote a few days ago "To My Husband On Fathers Day"
I am so thankful to have him in my life, and the lives of our three amazing children. I'd be lost without him, absolutely lost.
My children have recently realized that some kids do not have a father in their life. (Mostly because the dads just leave...and aren't around). They don't know any kids whose father is dead. They know Their Grandpa Randy, is dead, and that he's MY dad and that he died when I was a baby, but it hasn't really clicked yet. They love their "PawPaw" (my step dad). My daughter is totally a Paw Paws girl, and it's a good thing he lives three hours away because he'd have my daughter so spoiled it would be CRAZY.
I remind my kids every day to NEVER take their daddy for granted. That he's a great Daddy. He loves them fiercely and always wants them to know he is present and here for them. Be thankful you have a father who LIVES with you, who tucks you in at night, who chases monsters out of your room, stays home with you when you are sick and Mommy HAS to go to work, who will run to the school to drop off whatever you need when the school calls because you are in tears in the office because you left something at home (lunch, home work, a change of socks or shoes, or you aren't feeling well etc). A Daddy that despite hurting super bad from rheumatoid arthritis, will still get down and wrestle with you all, and give you piggy back rides, and you can't see his face...but he's hurting, bad, but he does it for them...because he loves them so much and wants to spend time with them.
So on one hand I am not a fan of Father's day.
On the other hand...watching my husband with our kids...it makes me appreciate Fathers Day so much more.
I read an article the other day about the reason WHY we celebrate Fathers Day. I cannot find the original article but I found this one from the History Channel website that is poignant and full of information, Mother's Day is (no surprise) what helped inspire Fathers Day. However, the FIRST Father's Day was a one time ordeal in a small town because 362 men died in a mine explosion, and nearly all of those men were husbands and fathers, and so many children were left fatherless.
Bam.
That hits home.
So technically, Fathers day is for children whose father's have passed away, in the true sense. A time to REMEMBER your deceased father. To honor what they've done for you (for those whose dads died in the coal mine...those dads died, trying to feed and care for their families and children, doing a job they KNEW was dangerous, that they could easily die from).
From then though, Father's day evolved. If you'd like to read more about it, please check out this article at the History Channel website.
So even though Fathers Day isn't MY personal favorite holiday, I still say a happy and fantastic day to all of the dads out there! To those dads in MY life to the dads in YOUR life, and all the dads in between. I really do sincerely wish you a great day.
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