My boyfriend and I went to the cemetery yesterday so I could put flowers on my parent’s grave. I usually buy one bouquet and then put it in the middle for both of them when I visit. But today is Fathers Day, so my dad got his own. I don’t know what his favorite color was, so I picked light pink roses and yellow lilies.
My daddy died when I was 12 years old. This year marks 35 years since he passed away suddenly from a heart attack in the car while we were driving home from an amusement park. It was extremely traumatic to watch him actively dying. My mom had been driving, thankfully. She pulled over into a parking lot. I jumped from the car and almost got myself ran over trying to flag someone down for help. A woman and her young son stopped. As my mom drove back to the hospital clinic (they let him go, we sued) the woman began CPR on him. Sadly, by the time that we got back and the people took him inside on a stretcher, it was already too late.
He was only 50. I’m creeping up quickly (I’ll be 47 this August) and it just boggles my mind that soon enough, I’ll be the same age as he was when he died.
Father’s Day, for me and my daughter, has been mostly a non-holiday for years. We don’t speak to my daughter’s toxic father. I do wish my brother a Happy Father’s Day. Otherwise, I just think about my dad more than I usually do and yes, I still miss him. It makes me sad that I never got to know him as an adult like I was able to do with my mom.
The pain isn’t as raw anymore, after so many years without him. It’s nothing like how I feel about my mom’s passing two years ago. I watched her die as well, although it certainly wasn’t sudden. I know that my dad didn’t suffer, it was that quick. I have that to comfort me.
Watching both of your parents die changes you. As horrible as it was (in both cases) at least I was present. I think that I’d choose to be there again if I had the option.
Happy Father’s Day! May your beer be cold and your burgers not give you food poisoning!