Well, we survived another Father’s Day. Overall, the day was pretty uneventful. I went to yoga, mostly because I told my teacher I’d be there, rather than practicing on my own at home. Fortunately for me, there were fewer people in the room than usual. I slipped into my quite little corner where few could hear the sniffles or see me wiping away the tears when they made their way into my practice. The deeper backbends coupled with a gentle touch from my teacher or her assistant had a way of bringing it out. Even when the tears were ones of gratitude, there was a bittersweet sadness to them. I didn’t make any excuses for where I was emotionally. In turn, my teacher shared her own story sadness surrounding the day. We exchanged heartfelt condolences while the rest of the room lay in savasana.
After practice, I returned home to the quietness of my youngest slumbering along with the dogs. I busied myself with a bit of cleaning, brushing the dogs, and other mindless chores. Somewhere in the middle of it all, I decided to send Happy Father’s Day wishes to the special men who helped father my son’s in Tom’s absence. Although my heart ached with appreciation and sadness (for having had to rely so heavily on others), I kept each message short and sweet. BoBo came home just as I was sending out the last one. “How’re you holding up?” he asked. I nodded. “Okay, I guess.” He gave me a hug and said, “Yeah, me too.” I suspected that my slumbering son, who has spent the better part of the month sorting through his dad’s writing, was also having a hard time of it.
Midway through the day, I thought about how busy I used to be trying to fit in making each of the fathers in my life feel special within the short 2-day weekend. The time constraints made the act of juggled of time for my stepdad, father-in-law, birth father, and father of my children feel more like a chore at times. This was especially so while dragging fussy children around from place to place to place. One by one, these special men passed on. Now I just feel empty and guilty for not appreciating how lucky I was to have so many good men to honor on Father’s Day.
I kept as busy as I could. I ran a slow 4.15 miles, which was longer than I first set out to go so I chalked it up to a success of sorts. I ate dinner (where YaYa was working) and later lifted weights with BoBo. And although the day started off on a funereal note, we made the best of it.
Next weekend would have been Tom’s 61st birthday. We’re currently cooking up various ideas of how we will honor him on his special day. Included will be my attempt at a ketogenic version of his lasagna and the traditional version as well.