There are countless stupid days and countless stupid months in countless stupid years. Those stupid months are made of equally stupid weeks and even more stupid days. And everything just happens in those days. Papers pile up and the dishes in the sink seem to get dirtier. And the funniest part about all of this is that all that stupid, meaningless filler that we humans obsess over (the dry cleaning, the job, the perfect body, the perfect grades, the perfect house) all seems so not stupid at the time. It's so very important to us. All that stuff becomes so important that the days like Father's Day often feel incredibly unnecessary. "A Hallmark Holiday," we call it as we get back to our meetings and appointments.
But all that changes when what's necessary in life, like a father, goes away.
It may have been in a car accident or it may have been a slow struggle through brain cancer. All that matters now is that its been X many stupid days, months or years since a father has been absent in your life, and that nagging reminder that he's gone conveniently comes in a hot day in June that normally is small and unimportant. But it is important today. Now, it matters.
So what do we do?
I wish I could say the right thing, something new, something that could take all the pain away. I won't say that your grieving gets better, that the questions get answered and that every vanilla latte ordered at the coffee shop won't remind you of his favorite drink.
But I can say love the people in front of you. Because you, of all people, know what it is like to lose, so show someone what it's like to gain. Take every moment, every stupid moment. Because at the end of your own life, all those stupid days, weeks, months and years will either be vapor or will count. Days like Father's Day will either be a hallmark holiday or a day that means a little more. Remember the things that used to make him laugh. Remember the times he used to drive you crazy calling you weird nicknames or mercilessly drilled you on your times tables. Remember the late nights editing your term papers and his horrible chicken scratch handwriting. Remember how he watched football on the couch, ate cereal for every meal and had the weirdest obsession with candy corn. Remember him coming home from work, kissing you goodnight and reading you "The Hobbit." Remember how he endlessly drilled you with rhetoric until you knew how to argue with him so you could get your way.
I know it's hard. It's something we feel like we don't want to do. But it's what days like Father's Day should be about: the small stuff that we miss when they're gone. Families that have fathers, think about the things that you would miss. Hold on to those.
Today is a happy day. A good, beautiful, stupid day in another stupid week, month and year.
