You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘Father’s day’ tag.
Miss my dad everyday since he left us, but especially on Father’s Day.
He would be very proud of his grandsons and I know that they would have loved spending time with him.
Warmest wishes to all the dads celebrating today, especially the man that has helped me through the craziness of parenthood and helps me everyday to raise three wonderful young men –
today and always, I love you.
Poor Tom, it wasn’t much of a Father’s Day. We drove kids around, which wasn’t too bad, since we knew we were doing that and we were prepared for it and looking forward to have a few hours to ourselves after we delivered a group of kids to UVM in Burlington.
In between driving kids around, we came home to find that the dog had eaten a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread less the two slices that Tom and Tim had for breakfast. This was not good, especially on top of the two breakfasts that she got. Raisins are toxic to dogs, much like grapes, except since raisins are dried and concentrated, it takes a whole lot less raisins to reach toxic levels. We realized this when we were in Burlington and raced home to see 1)if we still had a dog; and 2) to get her to the vet.
Lo and behold, two days in doggy hospital, a whole lot of intravenous fluids and she is home. It was a very anxiety provoking Father’s Day and a very, very expensive loaf of raisin bread.
I wonder how just how old you have to be to not miss your parents? My dad passed away 10 years ago tomorrow and the last time I spoke to him was on the Father’s Day a few days before. It’s a hard few days, these days, and each year it seems that it will be better, but somehow it makes me just as sad.
I cannot help but wonder how those ten years would have been different if he was still here. I can’t help but wonder what he would think of the young men his grandsons are turning into and how thrilled he would be to know the grandchildren that were born after he passed and who never will have the opportunity to know the man that we called “Daddy”.
I often think about how much my dad would love our house up here in Vermont and what it would be like to have had he and my mom come up here to visit and to spend time.
I can still hear his voice when we spoke that day, Father’s Day. No one since that day has called me “baby” and even if anyone ever did, ever again, it wouldn’t seem right and it wouldn’t be the same. I will always be his baby, his first, no matter how old I get. I also think that I will always miss him and wish that he were still here, a part of my life and my boys’ lives. I hate today and these next few days just because they make me sad and turn me into a crying, sniveling, little girl. We all have things that can reduce us to puddles, and the fact that he left us suddenly and I didn’t get to be there until it was too late, will always be mine.
Nonetheless, it is Father’s Day and I know that I am very lucky to have a wonderful husband. Together we have three handsome, loving and healthy boys on the cusp of adulthood. I know that they would make their grandfather proud if he were still here. I know that my husband is a wonderful father and I am so happy and so lucky and every day so thankful to have him here with me to share this life.
I don’t need to say here what makes him a good father and a great husband, because he knows and I know and the boys know and really that is all that matters. He is a very special part of our lives.
To all the other fathers out there, especially my father-in-law, my brother and my brother-in-law, who help to make our family what it is……….Happy Father’s Day!
Father’s Day….. a special day for a lot of special dads out there.
For my husband – He is the father of our three very wonderful sons and without him, well – they just wouldn’t be. He does a good, no a great job, being a dad and I am very happy to be sharing this journey called parenthood with him. I couldn’t imagine doing it alone, I am reminded of just how hard that is every time he goes away for any length of time. It has its great ups, when we’re so proud we feel like we’re going to burst and our bad lows when I wander around muttering to myself …. a lot. But I wouldn’t trade him or them for the world.
For my brother and brother-in-law – raising some really great kids (hey they’re related to me, they have to be great). And celebrating some pretty big milestones in their own families – for my brother-in-law a son graduating high school this coming week (boy, oh boy do I feel old) and a new baby for my brother (as well as a 2 year old birthday for his other daughter Happy Birthday Miss Emily!)
For my father-in-law, without him well I wouldn’t have my husband so I owe him a lot.
Among our friends, there are many that have turned into wonderful dads
This day, particularly this date is a bittersweet day. In 2001 this is the exact date that my dad passed away, suddenly and unexpected. The last day I spoke to him was also today, Father’s Day, but not the same date. I miss my dad a lot and wish that he were here often. I wonder what he would think of me, would he be proud – and happy that we have a nice life here in Vermont? I wish he could see what fine young men his three grandsons turned out to be. I’d like to think that he’s watching us, somewhere, looking down and smiling.
This date is also the day that my niece, Emily was born, two years ago today. She is a burst of female in a world dominated by boys, my three and my three nephews and she can always look forward to having some very protective cousins looking after her.
I started this for me. Somehow, like therapy, things are better when they come out of my head and get put somewhere else. While more and more people read this blog, I tend to think alot about what I write down beforehand so it is less a journal and more a reflection. Sometimes however, it still needs to be for me. Sorry folks, but this one is entirely selfish. Read it if you want. Just a warning. I know that I can write it and hit draft and it would stay in a state of limbo as long as I wanted. Or I can write the whole thing and hit delete and it would be out of me but I don’t think that either of those options would make me feel any better. It’s kind of like cheating. This is supposed to be about the good and the bad, everything rolled into one – me.
We went down to NJ to a family party this weekend. It was my niece’s first birthday Saturday. We had a good time, saw family and friends and ate and laughed. There was one person that I didn’t see. I could have visited him, but I didn’t. I want to think that he was there somewhere and I missed him. For some reason, I physically cannot get myself to go where he is now. I did go in the past. I went a couple times. But for all its serenity and quietness, it is not the place I want to be, not where I want to go to visit. Saturday marked 8 years since my dad passed away, suddenly. The sadness of the day has been replaced by happiness since my niece was born last year, and that is good, but somehow for me it cannot erase that empty feeling that came when he left. To make matters all that much better this year, yesterday was Father’s Day. Double whammy. Back to back sadness. Phone calls to all the dads in our life – my father-in-law, my brother, my brother-in-law, and most importantly, my husband. The last time I heard my dad’s voice was on Father’s Day. It’s been eight years, I am a grown woman with a family of boys on the cusp of manhood, I should not get all teary-eyed every year – parents die and so goes the circle of life. But I do, I didn’t talk about it, everyone else didn’t even seem to remember, so caught up in all the happiness that now surrounds the day. It seems wrong not to at least remember, he would have remembered us. But I can’t bring myself to go to the cemetery and bring flowers. I thought about it, it is only blocks from where the party was held and we drove all the way down almost four hours to get there, but I couldn’t do it. It is like someone sticking a knife into my heart. I cry, I feel guilty and hurt and miserable and miss him very much. I cannot bring the boys with me and have them watch their mother fall apart – and whatever memories they have of him, should be the memories that they keep, not the stone on the ground with his name on it and their mother crying like an idiot. So, I didn’t say anything. Somehow I’d like to think that he was there, at the party. That he knows that I think about him often and miss him dearly and wish desperately that he could have been around to see my boys grow and spend time with them and make them laugh. And that he would be proud. Like Dads are supposed to be of their kids.