As Told by Brandt

Father’s Day never much meaning to me.  It represented a day that allowed me some French toast and perhaps a round of golf with my buddies.  It was a day without stress.  I get a pass to be selfish as if I became a father without anyone else playing a major role.  Last year was different although I have no memory.  I am sure Naomi and Ana did something special and lovely.  I likely cried and questioned my own existence.  This is my new norm, regardless of made up Hallmark holidays.

Men and women are different species.  While we are off playing golf, women spend their “special day” eating brunches and spending the day with their kids.  “Naomi, what do you want to do this year?”  She’s always responded, “Let’s just do something together.”  While I would spend the day forgetting my family, Naomi was spending “her” day spreading her love on her children.  This year, my focus has been redirected. 

Navigating a world without Jacob is tough.  I am hurting and feel like I am losing a battle within.  I worry about so much.  Ana is my biggest concern.  It’s hard to hear how “resilient” kids are.  That’s complete bullshit.  Ana hurts in a way I will never know.  Father’s Day stands as a reminder of my fears and sorrow.  I wish I could say that I can look back at fondness and laugh about what was.  Maybe someday.  This year, I plan to spend a long time at the cemetery with Jacob.  It’s not meant to be self-punitive.  I want to go and try to embrace what made me a father. 

I know I will cry.  I know I will listen to music and will likely bring my guitar and sing.  Phoebe will be with me.  I will talk to Jacob.  I do every day.  I look for signs that he’s listening and talking back.  The pain I feel represents the love we shared.  Well, at least that’s what my therapist says.  Perhaps that’s the balance.  It’s the Ying and the Yang.  I hurt because I loved. 

I will be thinking about families living without their dads.  My love will be with my fellow parents who, too, try to traverse mountain-like boulders of regret and morosity.  Father’s Day, like any day, is forever altered.  Why wasn’t I grateful in the moment?  I don’t know.  Thanks, Jacob, for allowing me to start to learn love.  Thanks, Ana, for showing me how to love.  Thanks to Naomi for blessing me. 

#myreasonswhy #FathersDay #gratitude #sorrow