A moment of reflection if I may (of course I can-it's my blog).
This Father's Day marks my 12th year as a father; it also marks the 3rd year that my dad hasn't been around to celebrate it with. Picking Liam up tonight, I mention to him our rough plans for the weekend-Taste Of Randolph Street, followed by the sticking in of our heads at a good friend's anniversary party. Talk of Sunday comes up and I mention a possible trip to the cemetery to see Grandpa/Dad. I'm soon hit with the realization that I really haven't thought this through. Do I let my son potentially see me turn into a blubbering idiot in front of his own eyes? Suffice it to say he's seen enough of his old man's tears. I haven't thought of Dad to the point of tears in some time now. Perhaps I've numbed myself of the grief altogether? Doubtful, as I'm sure subsequent counseling sessions will prove (I hope) that I have more grieving to do, as well as a healthier means of letting it all out.
I would never tell my son that he should bottle up his emotions, but I can't seem to shake this...feeling that I don't want to embarrass myself on Sunday, or to make him cry if he sees me in such a state. Maybe it's the exhaustion (I am way past the point of being overtired); maybe it's the heat (too lazy to bring up the window a/c I bought tonight and the one that's currently running is as old as hell). Whatever the case, I miss the hell out of you, Dad.
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Assorted ramblings from a big mouth who should know better than to blog about anything remotely personal.
2 comments:
There is nothing wrong with your son seeing you mourn the loss of your dad. It is naturally and healthy. We spend too much time bottling up our emotions instead of releasing them.
You'd think I'd know that by now. I just worry because Liam's just as sensitive as I am, if not more.
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