Happy Father's Day Minus One

Today is Father's Day.

Usually, that would be great. Ever since becoming a father in 1996, I've loved the holiday. When they were children, I loved all of the handmade cards, the horrible breakfasts, and the little presents.

As my children have grown older, I've loved the inevitable call, the dinners and lunches, the cakes and pies, the little presents, the movie nights, and just getting to spend time with my increasingly more adult children.

Every minute with them has been a gift.

Today is the first father's day in over 10 years that I'm a father of fewer kids than more.

The boy is gone, and he's never coming back. Yes, I know he's still my kid, but he's no longer here, and before anyone says something like, "He’s looking down on you from heaven,” please remember I’m an atheist. I respect your beliefs (as long as you do no harm), so please accord me the same level of respect.

My kids are amazing, and I love them with all of my heart. I sometimes envision what my life would’ve been like without them, and I recoil at the image. They are the only truly good thing I’ve done with my life, and when I exit stage left from this reality, I’ll be proud of what I’ve left behind.

Joshua, Stephen*, Beth, Chrissy, Alex, and Katie brighten my life. They’ve made me reevaluate who I am and try to be a better man. I don’t always succeed, but because of them, I keep trying.

For them, I won’t give up.

Stephen always called me on Father's Day. Even when we weren’t talking, and that as a lot the older he got, he always called me. He also, always, considered me his dad. Except for one time when he was trying to impress a friend when he was 14, he never said, “You’re not my father” or any other variation of that hurtful phrase.

This year there will be no call.

I’ve had two months to deal with the shock of his loss. I think I’ve done a good job, but the wound is still raw. I’ve taken back some, if not most, of my daily routine. I get up with an alarm at a reasonable hour. I take a shower and brush my teeth (I shave when I get too itchy). I feed the turtle and clean his filter every other day. I’ve been sleeping a bit more regularly thanks to a mild prescription. My eating is… eh.

And I put on a shirt. You might think that’s funny unless you really know me.

But all of this is just a shoddy pealing bandage. What’s underneath isn’t much better than two months ago. Oh, it’s a little better. But, yeah, not much.

Still, I'm sad.

Still, I feel that hole in my heart.

Still, I see the empty chair.

Still, I miss my son.

In the end, I’m still his father, and he’s still gone forever.

- Josh (06/21/2020)