Happy Father’s Day to all the dads, stepdads, and stand-in dads!

As we celebrate our dads today, I want to acknowledge the people who might find this day a little sad…or maybe it’s a heartache that has yet to be healed. It may be a little tug in their heart, or a tear just on the verge of their eyelids, or perhaps it’s that ache in the chest where it just feels like our soul is crying out for someone we can no longer touch or see in this world.

While some people never had the opportunity to know their dad – maybe because he wasn’t present in their life, or maybe because he died before they could hold on to even one tender memory; others may be experiencing their “First Father’s Day Without,” as I did 24 years ago. Even today, my eyes begin to water as I replay that day in my mind and the feelings and observations that came with it.

For me, Father’s Day on Sunday, June 16, 2002, fell exactly six days after my dad died and two days after we buried him, on Flag Day. I remember sitting with my mom at the florist the afternoon he died, choosing summer flowers in shades of red, white, and blue. Father’s Day that year began my own “Year of Firsts Without” – what I’ve come to call that first year following the death of our loved ones. It hits hard… every holiday, every birthday, every little ritual we had was punctuated by the “first time without” their beautiful faces and their soft, familiar voices.

Father’s Day 2002 was my first one without my dad. It was the first time in church that, as we sang a memorial for deceased fathers and grandfathers, I sang for my grandfather and also for my dad, or at least I tried to, between my tears. My grief was still in its infancy. Raw. Painful. Not understood. But I made it through that first time without him, and somehow that seemed like a milestone… Just. Getting. Through. The. Day. My family talked about how hard it was and how much we missed him. Part of me was still in the brain fog that follows grief.

Yet at church, people didn’t mention my dad or tell me how sorry they were –  and I was grateful for that, because I don’t think I would have held it together. What helped were the warm hugs and embraces, and the silence that simply let me know they cared. I still wonder today why we say “I’m sorry.” I believe we just don’t know how to respond to people who are grieving. I suppose “I’m sorry” means they’re sorry we have to face this sadness. But we all do, since it’s the journey we each begin the moment we enter this world.

For those of you treading through unfamiliar, tender moments this Father’s Day, I hold that space with you – remembering the someone special who was the Dad in your life. If a walk down memory lane with someone you love helps, then take that small step. I close my eyes and I see my dad; I smell his aftershave; I hear his laughter in my ears.

I love you, Dad. Happy Father’s Day.