I tell people I live a charmed life. I have a strong sibling family, I am mother to two beautiful and loving daughters, I am a wife a giving and wonderful the man who stayed at home with the girls and provided them with stability at home (when it was very rare to see a man stay at home) and I lived a very unusual professional life with a its final day some three years ago.
My husband and I travel often to many amazing locations in the world. I have had the privilege to walk in Spain on the Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage that people have been doing for more than thousands of years. We made cast-in-stone decisions that allowed me to retire at the tender age of 50. We have a humble home in a very nice neighborhood and we have many great friends and loads of acquaintances and our life is amazing… I am so grateful for this, and all the beauty I have experienced in my life.
But, there is a hole in my heart. No due to a failed romance, bad professional moves or terrible investments or wrongful acts… My hole in my heart belongs to my father. It belongs to the decades of living without a fatherly influence, a fatherly embrace each evening, a fatherly stern concern about a potential decision on my part… It belongs to the little girl who was but 9 years old when life took him away from us. It belongs to the many decisions I’ve had to do with only one parent, or at times, no parental thoughts, advice, or concern. It belongs to those days when having a male parental figure in my life to guide me along was needed. It belongs to those special days such as my wedding day (I have the most considerate brother who walked me down the aisle), the birth of our two girls, or my retirement.
I live my life in a frozen state – that of a child not being able to ever experience her father in a mortal way. I live my life not having gone through the stage of finding my father to be old fashioned, out of touch or unaware of the progress of technology. I live my life in a stage where my father is nothing short of perfection – for I am, and will always be, adult or not, in a mind’s child of 9 when it relates to my father.
Each father’s day, I rejoice in the recognition that my husband has always had a very strong presence in our family. What joys can my daughters have to continue to get to know their father with new eyes each year on what makes him so amazing and unique. What incredible experiences they have each day in even the most mundane situations. What joy and simple but touching moments they can have with him each and every day. And in the bottom of my heart, I miss this.
Growing up I remember thinking that this would be easier with time… this constant missing of my father’s presence. There were years where I thought that years of maturity of age would make his absence easier. There were years when I thought my sheer anger would help me through the moments of void. There so many times when I would fall asleep at night, hoping that somehow I would be able to dream of him. My belief system is such that I feel he is with me at all times.
However, not in the way I want him to be. I would give almost everything to have one more day with him, one simple time to be able to, as a adult, to be with him. But life had other things in store for me, my mother and my siblings.
On father’s day, I truly celebrate my beautiful husband’s presence in my daughters’ lives. It is a true gift to all be together and to honor someone’s presence which will forever be an influence their lives.
And quietly, when everything has been put away, when dishes have been cleaned and dried, when leftovers of a good meal have been put away, I have my moment… of missing a hug, a smile, a cuddle, an advice, a stern word, a caring action…
They say time heals all wounds… but I can honestly say, time does nothing to help a heart that has a hole, a girl/woman who misses her father. Even after 44 years.