Father’s Day (In Three Parts): Part 1 After age 13 when my dad has passed away, Father’s Day was usually tough but maybe not as tough as some people thought it would be. I’m not sure if it’s because I missed my dad every day or if I had such great support from my friends and my family, but it was a day we muddled through. Over time it got easier, though there was always a jolt of grief or sadness when I realized the day was getting closer as friends picked out gifts or sent cards. During the five years I worked at camp, the opening day for one of the sessions was alost always on Father’s Day, meaning I watched hundreds of little girls get dropped of by their fathers and hug their necks and kiss them good bye on the cheek. It was a good distraction, being a camp, but always a huge reminder of what was missing. But instead of sadness, I choose to take this day to remember all the ways my dad was an amazing father to me for 13 years. How he loved making up songs to sing in the kitchen, or teased me relentlessly over boys. How outraged he was on my sister’s birthday that last year that I was planning on going to a 10 pm moving with a boy, but also his acceptance that I was growing up. The way he still always made sure we kept the door open when boys were over (SO annoying then, but now I know there’s no way he shouldn’t have made that rule.) The time he picked us up from school in the convertible and took Kelly and me and our friends to Dairy Queen for dipped cones, and the way we had to pull over twice to clean all the chocolate off Kelly’s face and out of her hair (a story that still makes me cackle to think about) but never got mad. The way he never didn’t know someone in a room, and if he didn’t then he made one real quick. He was just that way. How all his players called him Coach K, and how much growing up with a coach for a dad shaped how we were. Him driving us to elementary school in his red Honda and making us listen to the oldies station, and how it passed his love of Rod Stewart on to me. How loving he always was to each of his girls, including our mom, and how strong he was for all of us when he was sick. So while it’s a little hard seeing photos from all of you guys and friends on Facebook of them and their dads, especially now that everyone’s dad seems to be getting older, with graying hair and more wrinkles, I will still cherish the memory of my dad’s face just like this, untouched by old age that he never got the privilege to meet. We love you and miss you every day, Daddy! Happy Father’s Day!

Father’s Day (In Three Parts): Part 1


After age 13 when my dad has passed away, Father’s Day was usually tough but maybe not as tough as some people thought it would be. I’m not sure if it’s because I missed my dad every day or if I had such great support from my friends and my family, but it was a day we muddled through. Over time it got easier, though there was always a jolt of grief or sadness when I realized the day was getting closer as friends picked out gifts or sent cards. During the five years I worked at camp, the opening day for one of the sessions was alost always on Father’s Day, meaning I watched hundreds of little girls get dropped of by their fathers and hug their necks and kiss them good bye on the cheek. It was a good distraction, being a camp, but always a huge reminder of what was missing.

But instead of sadness, I choose to take this day to remember all the ways my dad was an amazing father to me for 13 years. How he loved making up songs to sing in the kitchen, or teased me relentlessly over boys. How outraged he was on my sister’s birthday that last year that I was planning on going to a 10 pm moving with a boy, but also his acceptance that I was growing up. The way he still always made sure we kept the door open when boys were over (SO annoying then, but now I know there’s no way he shouldn’t have made that rule.) The time he picked us up from school in the convertible and took Kelly and me and our friends to Dairy Queen for dipped cones, and the way we had to pull over twice to clean all the chocolate off Kelly’s face and out of her hair (a story that still makes me cackle to think about) but never got mad. The way he never didn’t know someone in a room, and if he didn’t then he made one real quick. He was just that way. How all his players called him Coach K, and how much growing up with a coach for a dad shaped how we were. Him driving us to elementary school in his red Honda and making us listen to the oldies station, and how it passed his love of Rod Stewart on to me. How loving he always was to each of his girls, including our mom, and how strong he was for all of us when he was sick.

So while it’s a little hard seeing photos from all of you guys and friends on Facebook of them and their dads, especially now that everyone’s dad seems to be getting older, with graying hair and more wrinkles, I will still cherish the memory of my dad’s face just like this, untouched by old age that he never got the privilege to meet.

We love you and miss you every day, Daddy! Happy Father’s Day!

  1. alwaysannalee reblogged this from divinesecrets and added:
    Bahahaha the ice cream in the convertible was definitely one of the best things that happened in middle schoola!
  2. brighteryellow said: This is a great post, and something I needed. Father’s Day can be tough. Sending hugs!
  3. divinesecrets posted this