Happy Father's Day

It’s a bittersweet time of year for me. The minute the Dad merchandise hits the greeting store racks I remember, “Pop died now.”

Not on Father’s Day, but soon thereafter. Father’s Day was spent in the hospital (as were the previous two weeks) in a great deal of pain. We celebrated there but it was tough to make the ol’ intubated cracker comfortable, let alone happy.

So, not only do I not have a daddy to celebrate, it’s hard to even celebrate his memory…bone and sinew, this is a time of mourning.

He was my greatest ally and my fiercest foe. A gentle, warped, generous soul.

So today all I can muster is a little water and some “bunny be gone” on his flowers, and brushing off his tombstone.

Wouldn’t it be great if I could celebrate other people’s dads? Wouldn’t it be? Not up to it yet. Not mature enough. I don’t know.

Other times of the year? Yes.

Now? No.

Will it always be thus? Doubtful. But for now, it just is.