My First Father’s Day – And Missing My Dad
With my first Father’s Day in the rearview mirror, I’ve had a little bit of time to think about what that day was and what it meant to me as a dad and missing my dad.
I’ve been hoping to have the chance to be a dad for most of my adult life. I’m not sure I have the words to explain why, but it’s true. Something about the chance to teach a little one about life, help them achieve the things they dream of, and try to do things in the ways that I think might be best.*
And now, here I am. 36-years-old, grey in my hair and beard, and with a two-month-old baby boy at home and the chance to see who I will become as a father.
So far, it’s everything I could have ever hoped for. The love I feel is off the charts. The excitement of watching him grow is amazing. The possibilities for his future are endless. The cuddles and diaper changes and bedtimes and rocking and bouncing and tickles and all the rest of it is just outstanding. And being here and experiencing all of it is very special.
Note: My Father’s Day was great. We hung out at home as a family. We watched wrestling in the morning (NXT Takeover Chicago II) and at night (Money In The Bank). And in the afternoon we watched baseball, and I got to lay in bed with the baby and nap during the game – which sounds like a little thing, but it’s truly the Sunday afternoon dad dream for me.
*The reality that I’ve come to realize and accept is that I have no real idea what I’ll do when it’s time to cross the big bridges and make the big decisions. I have no idea how I’m going to react in important or emotional moments.
Leading into Father’s Day this year, I also got to participate in a group Q&A that tapped me and two other blogging dads. We all answered questions about being dads, and it was very cool to be a part of.
Read it here – Three Dads Tell It Like It Is: Parenting From Dad’s Perspective
Father’s Day 2018 was also the second year that the holiday has come since my dad passed away. It’s still sad. I still miss him. It’s hard to put into words what the feelings all are.
And the truth of the matter it’s a different feeling and different bundle of ideas to wrap my head and heart around now that I’m a father.
Here’s what I wrote as a caption on Instagram on Father’s Day…
“Today is my first Father’s Day… and it’s the best. I am so very lucky to be a dad to this little boy and to have such a wonderful woman as his mom. Today is also our second Father’s Day without my dad. I still miss him very much, and one of my saddest thoughts is that my son won’t know him. I promise to tell stories and share memories. I promise to make sure he knows that his Grandpa Mark would have loved him very much. And he would have. And while I miss him very much, I love him more!”
Since we found out that Ollie was on the way, I’ve been thinking about the reality of my dad never meeting my kid, and my kid never knowing his grandpa.
We’re fortunate to have a big family. And Oliver is lucky to have grandparents and great-grandparents that love him. It’s a blessing.
But sometimes… sometimes when I’m holding my son and thinking about my dad it just hurts, and it sucks, and it feels unfair. Both my brother and I grew up and found great partners and had babies, and neither of these precious boys or any little ones that may come in the future will know the touch or voice of my dad.
And let me tell you, they are missing out. My dad was a good grandpa. My step-sister’s two little ones had the chance to have him in their lives from the start, and I got to watch him love on them every single chance he got. I’m grateful that he had that chance. I’m sad and maybe a little bit jealous or envious that Oliver doesn’t.
It’s hard to admit that I’m jealous at all. No part of me wishes that my niece and nephew wouldn’t have had their grandpa in their lives. But all of me wishes he could have been here for this.
At his funeral, I asked everyone to remember him and to tell stories about him because that was how we would keep him with us and make sure that his grandkids knew him. So when my brother’s son was born, I held him and told him about his grandpa. And from time to time, I hold Ollie, and I do the same thing.
He was funny. He was silly. He liked to camp and fish. He liked to sit by a fire. He liked baseball. He took us mini-golfing. He loved us.
He would have loved Ollie.
That same good fortune that Oliver has in having multiple sets of grandparents and great-grandparents is my good fortune. Knowing that we have those people in our lives, people that love him and love me is important. That knowledge has allowed me not to focus on thoughts like “how am I going to figure out how to be a dad without my dad here to help me.”.
Yes, I really wish my dad was here to give me advice, but I know that I have other dads to step up and help me with that.
I’m glad to have those men and that experience in my life. I wish my dad could be part of it.
I’m happy to have memories and stories to share. I’m sad my dad isn’t here to make any more.
I’m both lucky and unlucky.
But in the end, there are two things…
I miss my dad and love him very much.
I love being Oliver’s dad and love him very much.
📸 photo credit: Grandma Wendy