Father's Day

Walking through Walmart and seeing the signs,

The cards that say “Happy Father’s Day”

in blue and silvery letters

And the mugs that say “World’s Greatest Dad,”

I stop and think

Oh, I should…

But then I remember that I should not,

That this year, for the first time,

I don’t need to buy a card

That extols the virtue of fatherhood,

Or—more likely with my dad—

Tells a corny dad-joke that he would totally appreciate

Because that’s the kind of humor he had,

I don’t have to purchase a fancy tie or a set of power tools

Or a silly mug that says “World’s Best Father”

which he would never use

because he already had more coffee cups than he would need to use

in a lifetime

I won’t be going to a Father’s Day dinner with all of his favorite foods

Or pretending to watch NASCAR with him

While I really play on my phone

(Because watching a bunch of cars going around a track over and over again

is so interesting)

And it doesn’t hurt as much as I expected,

But it hits me in unexpected ways

The total and utter magnitude of this change

And the fact that we will never all be together in the same way

In the same place again,

But we will be together again…

I never understood before

When I had friends or loved ones who went through this,

And I guess you can’t really understand until you’ve been there,

No matter how much you want to empathize or how much you care about someone,

And I am utterly shocked by how little I knew before

And how much I have to give up of what I thought I knew,

But I am willing to grow and learn,

And I know that my dad’s okay,

Even if we can’t celebrate in the same old way,

Still I will wish him and all the fathers out there

Happy Father’s Day.