June 19th sneaked up on us this year. It came quickly and quietly in the midst of the end of the school year, graduations and graduation parties, and busy work schedules.
Scheduled to work a ten-hour shift with a one-hour commute, approximately twelve of the twenty-four hours dedicated to my dad were spoken for.
I woke up, got ready for work, went to Church, came home, and spent about forty-five minutes with my dad before heading to work. It was after ten o’clock by the time I got home: well after my father’s bed time.
Optimistic, I hoped to go out to dinner with him Monday night, but his work week was grueling, and we still have yet to officially celebrate his fatherhood.
I distinctly remember being in kindergarten, first, and even second grade, taking time out of the school day to make my dad a Father's Day card. I remember writing messages such as “World’s Greatest Dad!” or “World’s #1 Dad!” in big bold letters and bright colors. I certainly meant those words. My dad was the greatest. He gave me my first and only nicknames, he taught me how to ride a bike, he took me grocery shopping and let me pick out a treat, he tied my hair in loose ponytails that didn’t hurt my head, he bought me flowers on my birthday and on Valentine’s Day, and he took me to the drag strip (even if I only went so that I could fall asleep on his lap with his hand covering my ear.)
Today, these things are as true as they were then. He still calls me “Girt” and “Punkin”, I still know how to ride a bike, I still wake up to flowers on my birthday and on Valentine’s Day, and we still go to the drag strip together (though, I don’t fall asleep on him anymore). Though, there is so much more that my dad does to make him the “World’s Greatest Dad” or the “World’s #1 Dad”. He works hard, he lives his faith, and he loves his family completely unconditionally. He comes home from long days at work to care for the house. He helps me pay for college, helps me understand the machine that is my car, and simply laughs when he finds me wearing a t-shirt or pajama pants stolen from his closet. I am old enough now to see the things he does for our family, and to know that there is likely so much more that he does that goes unnoticed, and while I would have expected this realization to make me feel worse about only getting to spend forty-five minutes with him on Father's Day, it made me realize that he doesn’t deserve a single day of appreciation – he deserves 365.
I will always be grateful to the man that showed me God, let me “keep him company”, and who calls me during Finals Week, and laughs at me laughing at his jokes. I am grateful for this year’s Father's Day if only because it made me realize that every day should be Father's Day.
