This Father’s Day, give your dad a soft kiss on the cheek, look him in the eyes, and say: “Dad, you’re a legend.”
That was my dad.
Just over five months ago, I lost my beautiful father at the age of 77 to Stage 4 Melanoma.
My heart aches at the thought of him not being physically in front of me, especially for this upcoming Father’s Day—where he would normally be at my home, in my backyard, sipping a beer in a glass with some ice cubes. His smile, his laugh, his voice, his words, his ways—all missed so intensely.
The weeks and days leading up to his untimely death were some of the most grueling for me. And still, I wake up every morning, asking God why it was so necessary to take my father this soon.
This Father’s Day, I urge you to relish in your time spent with your dad.
Look at him and observe him, with loving eyes.
Listen to him as he expresses himself, and in the unique way he phrases things.
Honor him. Look how far he’s come. Look at what he’s produced. He made you.
He can also break you. And he can anger you. And make you irate. And cause you to say things you would never ever say.
He loves you. Deep down. Even if he doesn’t show it or say it nearly enough.
He literally created you.
Anyone who has ever lost their dad can likely attest: Father’s Day is never really the same. It can be festive in a different way, but it never truly feels right anymore.
I will still celebrate the day with an endless supply of smiles, tears, laughs, and stories that last miles long.
I will still don some of my dad’s clothing items—the hat, sunglasses, cool T-shirt—play some of his favorite tunes and artists, and celebrate the day with my father-in-law, who quite literally treats me like a daughter. He can never replace my real father, obviously—but I’m one lucky girl, if I’m being honest. This man took me in as one of his own, and proves it to me—week after week, year after year.
Fathers are sensational beings who deserve so much more kudos and credit than they get.
When Peter, my father, was still with me, I would honor him every single time I laid eyes on him.
I would peer into his “baby blues,” listen to him as he shared insights and revelations, and marvel at his enthusiasm for life on every level. He was such a divine human being, with a light so bright, you had to don your shades to shield yourself from his dazzling essence.
I kid you not, my amazing father Peter is, was, and will eternally be the best dad ever.
And please make certain that you tell your father that he is, too.
World over, every dad is truly doing the very best he can.
He is trying to keep himself healthy, happy, and vibrant, so he can grow old with you.
Hold onto that.
Always and forever.