My first Father's Day after losing my dad was unbelievably painful. It seemed like every advertisement I saw in the weeks leading up to it mentioned dads in some way or another. Every commercial was like a knife in my stomach. When the actual day arrived, my mom, sister, and I skipped church, which is very unusual for us, laid in bed, and watched television together. It was the best that we could do.

This Father's Day is my third missing my dad. We still skipped church, but this time it was because my mom was sick, not because it was too hard to get out of bed. However, easier does not mean easy. Father's Day is still my least favorite holiday. I still dread every ad I hear on the radio announcing which tools are the best to buy for the father figures in your life.

It's such a lonely feeling, because it's so hard to talk about, and it's often taboo to mention death casually. Earlier this week, while I was at work, a customer told me "Don't forget this weekend is Father's Day!" I wanted to say "Trust me, I couldn't if I tried, I don't have anyone to celebrate it with" but instead I held my tongue and assured him I wouldn't. I wished many customers a happy Father's Day on Saturday, almost as if I was trying to make up for not having anyone to say it to personally.

I'd love to be able to make a Facebook post about how awesome my dad was. But he's not here to see it or appreciate it, and I know it would evoke discomfort and pity from others. As a young person, not many of my peers know what it's like to lose a parent. Even a lot of people my mom's age still have both of their parents. Until you experience the death of a close family member, like a spouse, a sibling, or a parent, the very thought of losing those closest to you is incredibly unsettling. I remember feeling that way when I watched others my age lose parents when I was younger, blissfully unaware of my own father's death approaching silently. So, I refrain from saying anything about my own father on Father's Day, because I do not want my own celebration to poison the joy most everyone else feels on this day, or leave them feeling as if they must say something to comfort me.

I forgot when I woke up today that it was Father's Day, coming out of that just-woke-up haze, and hopped on Instagram before even getting out of bed, a horrible morning time habit of mine, and was hit with a wave of envy. Everyone's posts about their dads were so beautiful and heartwarming, but it made my heart hurt. I used to hate trying to figure out what to buy my dad for Father's Day, as he always bought everything he wanted for himself, but now I'd give anything to pick him out one last gift. I'd love to go out for one last Father's Day dinner, or make him one more card. I wish I'd made a bigger deal out of this holiday while he was still here, because he certainly deserved it. I wished I'd laughed a little harder at the dad jokes he would make.

So today I avoided social media, cuddled with my cat, and watched Netflix in my pajamas. It was the best I could do.

Maybe next year will be better.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. Love you forever, miss you always.