antof9

I don't think I've been to church on Father's Day since 1998. Regular readers of this blog know my dad passed away in December of 1998, and frankly, I haven't felt much like being in church (on Father's Day) since.

In a recent conversation with my husband, I was trying to articulate why I don't want to go to church on Father's Day. I've been thinking about it, and still haven't come up with much.

Here's some, but not all:

• For one thing, the service is usually about dads. Good dads, bad dads, how to be a good dad, leaving a legacy, blah blah blah. I had a great dad. He wasn't perfect, but he was great. And now he is no longer here on earth. And that makes me sad.


• For another thing, I'm not a dad. I don't plan on being one, I don't aspire to be one, I will most likely never be one.


• In addition, I'm not married to a dad. We don't have any children, so my husband is not a dad. So I don't feel any need to honor him in that way. My other three siblings all have children, and I know that they do something on Father's Day. It's possible that having children of their own distracts from the very real-ness of not having a Father on Father's Day. I don't know -- I haven't actually asked them that question.


• I don't not go out of rebellion, or to punish God, or because I blame Him, because I don't. And frankly, even if those were my reasons, I know God could handle it. He's that big.


• So if I'm not a dad, and my husband isn't a dad, and neither of us is going to become a dad, why would I want to go to church on Father's Day?

I don't. I just. Don't.

My dad has been dead for 10+ years, and I still miss him on a very regular basis. I miss being able to call him to ask a certain word in Dutch or Fries, or French, or German. I miss being able to ask him about his time in Ukraine. I miss the fact that I never learned from him how to garden, and now I can't ask him. He would have loved our backyard. I can't believe my sister's boys don't know him. I can't believe 2 of his granchildren have already graduated from high shool and he doesn't know what amazing people they turned into! I can't believe my Polish sister-in-law doesn't know him. He'd have loved her, and also figured out from his knowledge of Ukrainian, Russian and the other languages, how to speak Polish with her (not that she needs it; her English is amazing, but he'd have enjoyed that, and I think she would, too). I can't believe he doesn't live in that house an hour away that he and my mom retired in. And I can't believe that he doesn't know me at age 42. He only ever saw me at 32, and frankly, I was kind of dumb then.

I started this blog entry a week or so ago, after watching only the last 30 or so minutes of the Cheaper by the Dozen remake, bawling my eyes out at the Steve Martin dad in that movie. While it's true I'm probably the cryingest crybaby I know, there is something about a caring dad that gets me every time. And I miss mine.

So. What do I prefer to do on Father's Day? I prefer to think about my dad, and honor him by visiting his gravesite. In a bittersweet way for both of us, I have a friend who is in the same boat I am. So today, as we did last year, we are going to visit wandererjen's dad's gravesite, and mine, and have a nice lunch. And it's the first day of summer, and the weather finally figured out that the means the sun should shine. I'm going to buy some yellow gladiolas and leave them there for him, and think about the yellow dress I had when I was about 6, that I LOVED, especially after my mom told me that was my dad's favorite color. I was so sad when I outgrew that dress!

I miss my dad. And I don't think I need to be in church today.

I had a really great day with wandererjen yesterday. Sounds funny to say that, but I did. When I told the girls in my Bible Study that I was spending Father's Day with someone else whose dad had died, they all said they were glad I had someone to spend the day with. Then they all sort of simultaneously got funny looks on their faces as they hastened to say that they didn't mean they were glad her dad was gone, too.

I was able to grin :)

I know, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I certainly wouldn't wish it on my friend Jen, who is basically my twin separated by 12+ years.

However, we are sisters of the heart in more ways than one, and the fact that we both totally understand the dad thing makes her all the more special to me. She told me a month or more ago that she didn't want to go to church on Father's Day, so I asked her if she wanted to go to my dad's gravesite with me. It had been a while since I'd been, and I wanted to go. This is the 2nd or 3rd Father's Day we've spent together, and it might become a "thing".

We made a day of it, visiting both of our dads. We know they're not there. And yet, it feels like you're visiting your dad. Frankly, when we got to my dad's site, I almost said out loud, "Dad, I want you to meet Jen. She's one of my favorite people in the whole world. And I know you'd love her, too." I didn't, but it was on the tip of my tongue. We had a really nice lunch outside, and we sang Neil Diamond songs on the way there and back. Her dad loved Neil (who doesn't?), and my dad loved classical music and marches. Since I forgot my favorite Vivaldi CD and don't own any John Phillips Sousa that's not on vinyl, we enjoyed us some Neil.

We laughed, we cried, we told stories. We talked about volleyball and education, and we talked about last trips. Jen left her dad yellow roses, and I left my dad yellow gladiolas. And we had a beautiful, blue-skied, sunshine-y Colorado day, which I'm pretty sure both dads would have liked.

(cross-posted in footballgirls)
On Halloween night, a houseful of friends and family gathered to pass out candy, eat chili and cornbread or lentil soup, and lively discussion. My favorite kind of gathering, we talked about childhood costumes, movies, sports ... you name it; we talked about it. One of the topics that generated some heat covered baseball, football, and soccer (oh, and the athleticism of cheerleaders too). A lively conversation often makes me think. This week it's been: why do I like football so much? I think I've narrowed it down to a handful of things:

1. The Patriotism Factor
   The longer we lived in Chicago, the more of a Coloradoan I became. Keeping in mind that my dad was in the Air Force and I'm not really from anywhere, you wouldn't think I'd be so into my place of birth. But the fact is that we all want to feel attached to something -- a sense of belonging. Unk was born and raised here. I was born here, moved away, and moved back for grades K-4. We were married here, and it's one of the most beautiful places on earth, between the sun, the blue sky, and the mountains. All that to say, the longer we lived in Chicago, the more I thought about Colorado. And my feeling of connectedness was fed by the fuel of being a fan of Colorado's sports teams (well, not so much the Nuggets, but you know ...). I found I liked being a Broncos fan. I liked knowing how they were playing, I liked sharing one of my husband's interests, and I enjoyed the handful of times each season that their games were aired in Chicago. There's something in the team loyalty/chest-pounding/connectedness of cheering for your "home team" that feels the same as "patriotism".


2. The Personal Stuff
   Football is irrevocably connected in my mind to my friends G&K. G is the smartest husband ever -- he figured out how to get his wife interested in football! He's a stats guy, but knew that his wife would like personal stories. Things like a guy raised by a single mother who bought her a house with his first paycheck, or the player with a baby who has a disease, and how they're fighting it. G told K personal stories about the players, who "we like" and who "we don't", and she became interested. She, in turn, shared those stories with me. She's my first girlfriend who also liked football. There's also the my-brother-played factor, and the fact that guys like Peyton Manning remind me of him. All of these personal things make me more interested.


3. Rebellious Woman
   Anyone who knows me knows that ... frankly, I like being contrary. I wasn't the most rebellious child my parents had for nothing! I don't know at what point I realized most girls don't like football, but at the point I was well on the way to being a fan. That fact, most likely, sealed the deal and pushed me over into full-on fangirldom. Unk has been calling me "rebellious woman" for years. It's a term of endearment. I love being a girl who likes football. I'm just that way.


4. My Dad Liked It
   I honestly can't remember a time my dad didn't watch football. He liked both college and professional -- I don't even know if he had a preference, but watching football was one of the few things he did to relax. He was a hard-working Dutchman in all other moments. I've often wondered who explained American football to him. He sure did love it. I've racked my memory to think of a time when I didn't like being with him on a Sunday afternoon. I'm sure there was a time, but I don't remember it. Football was on the tv, he was sitting in his LaZBoy recliner, and I was reading or playing quietly on the side. When he'd yell at the tv, or the announcers would sound excited, I would look up. He was so disgusted by professional players who fumbled the ball! Anyway, my dad liked it, and so did I. Eventually, I watched the whole game. At some point, he'd usually doze off, only to wake himself up with his own snoring :) Then I'd tell him what he missed.

There's probably more, but these are the main reasons I like spending Sundays (and the occasional Monday night) in front of the tv.

I'm Ant, and I love football. And not just when the Broncos are playing :)

Father's Day in the U.S. is almost over. This wasn't a bad year, but I still miss mine. He died close to Christmas in 1998. I've written about it a few times -- here is one, and here is another.

After my dad died, I stopped going to church on Father's Day. It just made me too sad. I've spent the last two FDs with wandererjen, who is also fatherless. It's nice (not the right word, but ...) to have someone to share the day with who knows exactly how you feel, although I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. A couple months ago, my sister told me they still hadn't had their youngest (S4) dedicated in church yet. Did we want to come for it? They'd been thinking about doing it on Father's Day. I figured why not -- I don't go to my own church on that day, anyway, so why not go to Seattle and be with 4 wild little boys?

So Unk and I are here, having a nice visit, and the baby/child dedication was this morning in church. It was really nice, and hardly made me sad at all. It was also good to be part of the congregation as the pastor asked us if we'd help these little people grow up to know God.

This picture is from the other night at big brother S1 and S2's swim meet (S1 and dad are in the background). He was hilarious and climbing all over the place.

Anyway, we're here, and that's why I'm not posting much. It's nice to be with my sister, too.

Oh, and alrescate? It's perfect and she loves it.

Dear (insert vendor/retailer/etailer name of choice):

My father passed away in 1998. I do not still buy him Father's Day gifts. I am tired of receiving Father's Day announcements/solicitations, etc. This is the time of year I stop listening to the radio, as the ads are out of control, and make me sad.

Perhaps you could create some sort of opt-out (or opt-in) program for your subscription list, so people could pick and choose which holidays they observe/celebrate, etc.? I see this having benefits for people who don't talk to their moms, Christians, Jews, Pagans, orphans, patriots, and more. The first company who develops a program of this kind wins big kudos from me.

Ant

14 December, 1998 at close to this time, I was in Troy, Michigan on a business trip. My mom paged me and I called her back. And that's when I found out I wouldn't see him again.

( I have to figure out picture sizing, evidently )

24 April, 1934
My dad was born in Gaast, The Netherlands
14 December, 1998
My dad died in Colorado Springs, Colorado

( Pake and a namesake )

( Me and Dad and T )

( Jenga w/ Piet )

( Giving rides )

( Christmas 1992? )

( At a wedding )

( Mom and Dad )

( Kankakee )

( A buncha Dutch people )

I miss you, Dad.

Some people call it serendipity, some coincidence, some the hand of God. Whatever. In this case, I'd say there was a reason I was thinking about rubbergirl this morning. In my wanderings, I found trav28, a friend of hers. In scrolling through his entries, I found that his dad passed away in February. Unexpected, sudden, out of the blue, and he got the information by phone, as I did about my dad in December of 1998. Knowing that the only person who actually has the right to say "I know just how you feel" is one who's been there, done that, I thought I'd write a short note. In response, I got the gift of a new friend.

Unfortunately, trav28, there are others on my friends list in this club. This is one of those things I wish I didn't have in common with anyone. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. However, shared sorrow is sometimes helpful, so it's good to talk about it. Anytime. I'm guessing others in our boat feel the same. Talk anytime. I'm here.

---

I think it's so smart when atabei re-posts comments she's made elsewhere in her own LJ, so I'm going to add my thoughts (today) on this topic that I posted on his journal, because I'd like to keep a record too:

( comments posted in his journal )