I know that fathers day is now receding into the past, but I've been noodling on this post for some time and trying to figure out what I mean to say. Still not quite sure.
Fathers day is hard for me. Always is. My dad died suddenly when I was a kid -- 14 years old. And while I have healed and am a generally functioning adult, his death left his mark. I find that, now that I have a child, I miss my dad more than I have in a long, long time. Maybe it because I sing songs to my son that my father used to sing to me, or maybe it's because I am just sad that he doesn't get to know his grandson (or adult daughter, or son-in-law, for that matter), but I find myself crying more often than usual, and it's hard to blame the hormones when my baby is 5 months old.
After my dad died, my maternal grandparents, who lived nearby, stepped in and became very very active parts of our lives-- we saw them at least every week and they were at every school concert, play, and graduation until I finished grad school. My grandmother died 3 years ago after several years with Alzheimer's, and my grandfather, who was possibly the warmest, most generous man ever, died in March. He died peacefully and quickly, at 95 years old, in his home where he still lived independently.
He died 31 days after my baby was born, and 3 days after B's expected due date. So my grandfather knew he was a boy, knew his name, and knew he was healthy and that i was doing well. He got to see the baby over the magic of video chat, but I had not flown home for our first visit since we were instructed to wait until B had his 2month shots. But my great regret is that I did not make it home with the baby before he died. My grandfather was in great shape, and aside from being old, we had no reason to believe he would not live longer.
So while I had hoped that this year father's day would be a happier time-- after struggling to have a baby for so long, my husband was finally a father, it was hard and I'm still reeling a bit.
Making the day both better and perversely worse was that we had a lovely day visiting my in-laws. My FIL, who isn't the most laid back of guys, spent a ton of time on the floor with the wee one, and it was really wonderful to see him so happy. He has cancer, which is in remission, but still hangs over his head like a sword, and so this baby has really been a fabulous boost to his spirits. I love that this little boy can, just by being there and wiggling and smiling, bring so much joy.
So it was a really nice day for my MIL and FIL and DH, and for me too. But not too far beneath the surface was sadness that my dad doesn't get days like that with his grandson. That i don't get days with my child and my father. And that my grandfather, who gave me so much, never got to hold his only great-grandchild. He would have loved this boy more than the world-- I know this because that's how he loved me, his eldest grandchild.
I'm sad. I miss my dad and I miss my grandfather.