Father’s Day
There are some things in our lives that we simply cannot control, whether it’s where we live, what situations we find ourselves in, or even who’s there to be beside us when we need them the most.
Four years ago, I found out exactly what it means to feel loss.
Four years ago, I was put through an event that shaped me into who I am today.
Four years ago, my heart was wrenched, torn, crushed, and above all, punctured with the stabbing pains of grief over and over again.
Father’s Day has always been difficult for me, no matter what. The emotion that comes with this day and June 2nd have always lead me to trod heavily onward to the next day, with tears in my eyes.
I always cry when I go to visit him at the cemetery, and this is the fourth year now. It’s been a long time, but the memories remain as fresh as ever.
One of the things I continuously wonder about is whether my father would be proud of me, and who I am gradually becoming. I’ve been unable to sleep some nights due to my restless thoughts drifting to those of doubt and confusion. Is he proud of me?—I ask myself that question frequently, and hope that he is. I always wanted to make him proud, and I don’t intend to let him down.
My father loved me, cared for me, and above all, admonished my actions and was always there for me; I hope to do the same when I have kids later in life.
Happy Father’s Day, everyone.
