A Father's Day Without My Dad

On my first Father’s Day without my dad, I feel a listless dread. Not so much tearful, but stunning pain on the inside. It’s hard to believe that I will never have another real Father’s Day, where I can look my dad in the eye and say, “I love you.”  It’s not fair of course.  But, I don’t really care about the fairness.  I just miss my dad. 

Today we doled out his clothes, rummaged through his drawers, and clicked through hangers full of striped polos, unworn golf shirts, and Kirkland branded button downs. Piles of shorts and shoes gathered on the floor and bed.  One pile for giveaways. One pile for the lucky sized sons-in-law. One pile to be cut up into quilts. 

It felt like bits of my dad scuttled up in the air, escaping even more as we unruffled his organized drawers. Ten of us in his room, his walk in closet, sifting through his socks, sitting on his bed, watching the piles grow.  For a guy who only wore a handful of shirts most of the time, his drawers were chock full.  Oh, dad. Why didn’t you tell us to stop buying you clothes for Christmas? We never knew what to get you...you never said what you needed. 

I took some shirts home with me, but my dad is not there.  He’s not anywhere.  He’s in my memories, but those ache, and I push them away most days. I cry a little on some days, a lot on others, and my 3 year old knows instantly what’s wrong, “You miss papa?” and pats my back. 

What my dad needed the most he didn’t get.  What he wanted the most was time with his family.  I hope he was in that room with us in spirit, laughing at our dysfunctional way of dealing with the pain- gathering his garbs.  But, emptying those drawers won’t empty the sting of today.  It won’t close the chapter of grief any faster.  In those piles still loom piles of hurt and “whys” to God.  Why God? Why did you have to take away our earthly replication of you? The one who took care of us, looked out for us, sacrificed for us, and loved us beyond himself.

He was and is a saint in my mind – having an "exceptional degree of holiness and likeness to God." That’s my dad.  He had no need or want for earthly items. Only time, the one thing he couldn’t have.  We miss you dad and love you.  I hope God’s taking very good care of you up there (and I hope you don't need any of your clothes back... ).  Happy Father's Day.