The Bittersweet-ness of Father’s Day

This year is the 10th Father’s Day that I have celebrated without my Dad. I am grateful that, unintentionally, we scheduled tomorrow as an “after church dinner with Mom” Sunday. It’s got to be harder for her than it is for me.

I struggle with the ability to see the imperfections in the not-so-perfect world around me. (I see them in myself, too, but that should be a different post.) My dad wasn’t perfect. For years, I allowed his faults to create a rift between us. Sometimes, I even believed I hated him.

As I entered young adulthood, I did try things to connect with Dad. He saw right through my attempts to like fishing and knew I was bored to death the entire Saturday. I’m sure he appreciated what motivated me, but we never did seem to get any closer. I knew he loved his grandkids, though!

So, this year will be another bittersweet Father’s Day. I miss my dad, and I wish he could see how I turned out 10 years later, and I hope he would be proud. I will always wish we had a deeper, closer relationship, but I will always know he gave us the best he had. That last quality made him a great father.


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