Father’s Day. That one day a year we set aside to tell our fathers, grandfathers, and the fathers of our children how much we love and appreciate them the other 364 days a year.
When my father was alive, I felt compelled every year to stand in front of an aisle of greeting cards, searching for that one card that embodied the sentiment brewing in my head. Just one problem—those kinds of sentiments don’t make it into greeting cards.
I’m fairly certain Hallmark has never made a card that explained how much I hated Friday and Saturday nights because that’s when my dad got drunk, lined all of us up at the dining room table, and verbally abused us until he passed out.
Shoebox doesn’t typically write verses for terrified kids, huddled in a dark, cold stairwell with their mother, while their father prowls the apartment below with a loaded handgun looking for them.
I’m so jealous when I hear friends talk about their “normal” families. I can’t help wondering how my life would be different—how I would be different—if I’d had The Beaver’s dad. You dads out there—you need to know that EVERYTHING you do affects your children.
Anyway, this year I thought I’d pick someone else’s father to honor, and I settled on a character from a book, since I’m rather fond of books.
Who will ever forget Charles Ingalls and that whole passel of kids in the Little House on the Prairie? Yep, I think he did all right as a dad.
Happy Father’s Day, Charles!
Who are you honoring today?
