Father’s Day


Last Friday marked five months since I lost my dad. I spent a good part of the weekend wondering what I would be doing this weekend if dad were still here. A barbecue, perhaps hanging out at home, or trying to force dad to eat some random dessert I made. Or maybe I’d be asking him for help finding a house or fixing the dent in my car.

I came to the stunning realization not too long ago that I’ll never get to hug him again. You may think this is coming a bit late, considering I knew I wouldn’t get to hug him again the moment I knew he was gone, but you’d be wrong. My memories and realizations are coming in waves. Some more drastic than others. ย Sometimes without warning, and sometimes they pile up until I feel like I can’t take it any more.

Watching TV, which is usually an escape, can trigger emotions I don’t want to deal with. Watching a commercial about a grandfather reading to his grandson makes me realize my future children will never get to hear my dad’s voice, sit on his lap, or hear his funny stories. I use to dream about my dad babysitting my future children, playing with them and spoiling them rotten, and it hurts to know that I’m wrong about that part of my future.


On Friday, the five month mark, I bought a Father’s Day card my dad will never get to open, exactly what I would’ve bought him if he were still here. I’ve written a message to him very similar to this one, about how much I miss him and wish I could talk to him again, even though I know he can’t answer me.

I want to ask my dad how I fix a broken garbage disposal, what type of home loan to get, how to look for a house to buy, what size wrench ย I need to fix my table, and all these other questions I would usually ask him. Sometimes I find myself reaching for the phone, about to dial my parent’s home phone number and stop, knowing he can’t answer the phone. I still have his work phone and cell phone numbers listed in my phone. I don’t have the heart to delete them. They’re a reminder to myself that maybe, just maybe, I could talk to him again if I really wanted to.

But I know that’s not true.

I wish he knew how much I love my new job, how great my new coworkers are,how much I adore my sister and mom, and how awesome the friends are I’ve met through blogging. I wish he could see how great Joe and I are together, I wish he could attend my brother’s wedding and I wish he could meet my sister’ boyfriend. I wish he knew how much I missed him.

I don’t know what I was trying to accomplish by writing this. Maybe I’m afraid I’m going to forget him, although I know that not true. I think I just wanted to talk about how much I miss him and how awesome he really was.

This Father’s Day, I’m celebrating the things I remember most about him: his laugh, his devotion to family, his sense of humor, his hugs and his awesome personality.

Dad was the kind of man who you were just in awe of. He had the worst situations thrown at him, even as a young child, and any other person would’ve faltered under the pressure of the situation. But not my dad. He took the bad parts of his life and turned them into something good, even if it took him a while to do so.

He loved to make me, my sister and my brother laugh. He had his voices that he’d do, or he’d cock his head, look at me and say, “that’s what you’re wearing?” in a monotone, deadpan voice. I’d freak out and change, while my sister laughed, knowing dad was just doing it to annoy me.

I inherited his laugh. When he thought something was really, really funny, he’d howl, stomp his feet or clap his hands. Watching TV with him was very hard if you wanted to be able to hear the show. I don’t stomp my feet, but I laugh just like he does, and if I’m too loud, Joe will call me “Bill” to get me to calm down.

I remember how he had house shoes, house shirts and house pants. He also had work shoes, work shirts and work pants. They all had to be polished, pressed and foldedย PRECISELY, no matter if he was going to wear them to mow the lawn or go to work. He insisted on looking his best for the bugs that would attack him. Sometimes he’d throw on a hot pink baseball cap just because it was funny.

me and dad

There are experiences I’ve had with my dad that my siblings won’t get, and sometimes it makes me feel guilty. He walked me down the aisle at my wedding, got to dance with me and celebrate that day with me. And here I am, less than a week away from my brother’s wedding, realizing that dad won’t be there. And it kills me that my brother doesn’t get that experience.

But, as my sister will remind me, she and my brother had experiences with dad that I’ll never have. So we each have our own set of memories with dad.

When you’re celebrating with your dad this weekend, give him an extra hug, just for me, because that’s one thing I miss the most.


50 thoughts on “Father’s Day

    • I knew that sentence would make people sad, but it’s true. Hug your dad while you can, because mine was taken from me sooner than I thought he would be!

  1. This was beautiful Suze and what you accomplished by writing this is sharing his memory with us and what an honor that is. Our thoughts are always with you and know that you have a huge, supportive community to lean on and receive virtual hugs whenever you need them! ๐Ÿ™‚

  2. I just teared up. Such a wonderfully written post, my dear. Sending major hugs your way. And if your father was still here, he would be so proud of you and everything that you have done and will do.

  3. I just passed my third mother’s day without my mom and I still have all those thoughts. That’s a beautiful piece of writing.

  4. Oh, I teared up as I read this. My father passed 7 years ago and I still miss him. In fact, I’ve developed a habit of talking outloud to him when I need to. My father sounds like a different personality than yours was, but I have questions I too would ask my dad if I could. Buying him a card sounds therapeutic to me. I found the first two years were VERY difficult. It gets easier, but I will always miss my dad. Thanks for letting me ramble on about mine on YOUR blog.

    • You’re always welcome to talk about your dad on my blog ๐Ÿ™‚
      Mu dad was a character!He was just so full of life, right up to the end. Thank you for reading ๐Ÿ™‚

  5. I lost my father about two years ago. And I still have the same thoughts. A TV show, or movie, or book will make me tear up when I realize one more thing that I will never get to do with my father again. I can tell you it’ll get easier. But I still can’t delete his number from my cell phone.

    • I’m sorry you lost your dad. ๐Ÿ˜ฆ
      There are things I’m sure I’ll never be able to get rid of, like cards he’s signed (I have a box full of ’em).

  6. This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing this with us, I especially like what you said about your grieving process. It is different for everyone, and I appreciate you being so raw and honest.

    • I started writing this a week ago, and it was BAD. I was crying really, really hard, and I was toying with the idea of posting it or not, and I decided to post it, because I felt that I needed to, you know?

  7. I’m so sorry for your loss – it is so sad to lose your parents so young. My thoughts are with you this weekend and I’m sure you dad is watching over you with a big smile on his face. A lovely post – thank you for sharing. xx

  8. What a touching post, Suze. Thank you for sharing. And I believe your dad knows all these things you want him to know. ๐Ÿ™‚

  9. Aw, this is a very touching post. I got a little teary reading. While I’ve never lost a parent, I can only imagine the feeling. My grandfather died when I was in 2nd grade and up to that point he was the only father figure I’d ever known. I was heartbroken because I was about to make my First Communion & He wouldn’t be there. Although, my grandmother reminded me, the necklace they gave me as a gift was something he had picked out. I still have it. Out of the now 8 grandchildren, I am the oldest and the only one who remembers him and shared those experiences. I was very lucky.

    I have a friend who is “spiritually inclined” I never really believed her until one day she was telling me that I had someone watching over me and they were there with us. She described my grandfather to a T. It was eerie but its nice to think that he’s still looking out for me. Whether my friend was right or not.

  10. Your dad looks like he was one awesome daddy! I will hug mt dad like I’ve never hugged him before after reading your post. Sending you virtual hugs all the way from Scotland too xxxx

  11. This was very nice to read. I can completely relate to your feelings, even though my dad has been gone for 5 years now, as of this month, it’s an on-going process as sometimes it still seems like yesterday. Hugs to you!!

  12. This was beautiful. I don’t even know you, and I just want to reach out and give you a big hug. You definitely made me tear up, and I actually called my dad after reading this just to say I love you. Thanks for reminding all of us not to take the great fathers in our loves for granted. I hope Sunday can be a day you share memories of this wonderful guy with the others who miss him, too.

  13. I understand so much. I too still have my Dad’s number in my phone. I keep thinking I can call him up and ask him about the neighbour’s name down the street. He’d know them.
    You explained the way loss feels. It’s not a ton of bricks at once. It’s tiny rocks being thrown at you. Some hurt, some surprise and some just annoy you.
    Loved the post. Glad you wrote it.

  14. I won’t be celebrating with my dad either, but I’m beyond blessed to have a wonderful husband that is the best father my daughter could ask for. This is a very sentimental post that brought a tear to my eye. Thank you for sharing your cute memories of your dad.

  15. What a lovely tribute to your dad. I’ve got a lump in my throat after reading it. The thing about not being able to delete his numbers from your phone? That hit hard. It made me realize I’ve never lost anyone close to me since I’ve been an adult, how lucky I am because of it, how precarious and fleeting life is, and how a seemingly small thing like deleting a phone number can be so symbolically huge and final, like cutting a last, tangible cord to a time when everything was right.

    I’m really sorry for your loss. Your dad seemed like a truly awesome guy. Thanks for sharing, Suze.

  16. Thank you for sharing this. It completely made me sob. I hope you have good support this weekend; I know it’ll be hard. Thinking thoughts of strength for you.

  17. Suze, you are so brave for spilling your feelings here, in public, vulnerable. And yet, your post to me was not completely sad, but a mix of happy and sad. Keep remembering the happy – those are the best parts ๐Ÿ™‚ **Big hugs!!**

  18. I’m so sorry for your loss. Your dad looks like a really nice guy and he sounds like the perfect Dad. I’ve called my Mom’s old number twice since she passed. I know it’s silly, but we do what we can to cope. Hugs to you

  19. I see the sparkle in his eyes is the same as yours. You got it from him, and he got it from you. Be proud you can love deeply, because he showed you how. And pass that love on…

  20. This was very touching. I was teary eyed when reading it. I’ll be sure to give my dad an extra hug this weekend in honor of you and this post.

  21. what a heart felt message… left me contemplating all of the memories I will cherish that I have had with my dad. HUG to you my dear!

  22. I love that you are always such a positive role model. Whether it’s the little nitty gritty details of blogging or showing others that it’s okay to grieve, to not have to always pretend like you are happy or okay after a major life event like this, that it’s healthy to speak up about what you’re going through. When I go home back to Virginia in a few weeks, I’m going to hug my dad with an extra sense of appreciation for just how important that is.

  23. I am very moved my sweet. Thank you so much for sharing. I feel the same, living our lives the best way we can is what our loved ones would want. Love, Anika

  24. I can’t even imagine what it is like to lose a parent. But, he seems like he was an extraordinary man. Thank you for sharing your stories, and what you are feeling.

  25. Aww Suze, sending lots of hugs your way.

    I tried really hared not to cry while I was reading this but I couldn’t help it. This post is a beautiful tribute to your father’s memory and all that he meant to you. Losing someone is always difficult and losing a parent is still unimaginable to me. Thank you for sharing your emotions and thoughts with us. Your kind heart and generous nature are a testament to what a great man he was.

  26. This was beautiful, and I teared up reading it like so many others. I’m glad you had such wonderful times with your lovely father. Thanks for reminding those of us lucky enough to still have our fathers to appreciate them. Hugs.

  27. I had to fight myself not to cry while reading this. But you know, your father DOES know how happy you are, and he does get to see the joy in those he loves. At least I like to think so. My own father is seriously ill, and at 48 years old, we’re not so sure he’ll make it to 50. I don’t get to see him very often since my parents live 5 hours away, and I wasn’t with him this Father’s Day. I’ll make certain to give him some extra hugs for both of us when I see him in a few more weeks.

  28. I started crying from the minute I started reading. You are so strong, and your writing is so real and touching. โค

  29. Pingback: One more outfit before I go… « Miss Vinyl Ahoy

  30. Took me a while to figure out what to comment here. I remember my first father’s day without my dad. I hate to tell you but I don’t think it gets easier- it just gets less hard. Kind of numb more than anything. Sunday was my 8th father-less father’s day. I cry all the time thinking about what he missed out on. For me, the realization that killed me after a few months was that I couldn’t remember what his voice sounded like. I still can’t ๐Ÿ˜ฆ Sadly I don’t have any great advice, but know that I’m there with ya, I care about you tons, and am always here for you (and Cher, natch) if you ever want to chat. Cause sometimes you just need to talk about how much you miss him โค

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