Furthermore, the 13 Father’s Days I’ve had with my dad seem pretty boring and dare I say, insignificant.

That’s why I’ve always found it ironic that it’s a day I now spend so much time thinking about, as an adult who doesn’t have children. When I hear colleagues or friends say they’re getting a card for their dad from Moonpig or they’re going to their parents’ house for a roast,

I feel myself sinking into sadness. I know I never thought Father’s Day was important when my father was alive. I’m not sure we ever marked it (other than with the glass fish he already owned!).

I know that if he was here, he wouldn’t care if I called him or not, if he got a card, or if we even acknowledged it. But now I dread it for weeks.

The first mention of it usually comes from a friend who has a living father. They may casually mention that they are home that weekend, “because it is Father’s Day.”

I’ll try to nod and act normal, as if I don’t feel a pang and a twinge of jealousy. And yet I get irritated by those who completely forget about Father’s Day because I feel like shouting “don’t you know how lucky you are?!”

It feels unfair and even foolish to have such complicated feelings about a day created solely for profit.

For thirteen years I paid little attention to the day when I had a perfectly sweet, living father sitting at home with me. He’s probably worked most Father’s Days over the years and I don’t think I’ve ever brought him breakfast in bed or given him a gift to acknowledge my love for him.

I remember really caring about Father’s Day in 2008, six months after my father passed away. I felt like Father’s Day towered over me. Advertisements on TV, in newspapers, card stands in shops. It felt like everything was screaming at me that there was a day to mark the person you love, and now you can’t! I felt sad, ashamed and guilty. I was 13 and bought a card. I decided to pick one up in town instead of the local store, afraid someone would see it and think, “Wait, isn’t her dad very dead?”

I kept the plastic packaging that the card came in. I wrote a message to my father about how much I loved and missed him, and I left it on his grave, naively thinking that the plastic wrap would preserve it. For most of the years afterward, I did the same thing. Always make sure you mark this. Since I no longer live at home, I think things have probably gotten harder. I feel so disconnected from that map and that grave that I find myself really struggling with the day – the same day I never even cared about when he was alive. It feels cruel.

Ever since I lost my father, I felt the urge to mark it as much as possible. I don’t even click on the well-intentioned ‘opt-out’ in emails leading up to Father’s Day.

I like getting them because it makes me feel like I’m marking the day. I can almost pretend that my father is still alive and I’ll rummage through the ties or bottles of whiskey I might buy for him. Since he died, I’ve marked it more than ever. It’s like wrestling with the idea of ​​what could have been.

This is something I’ve been pointing out and talking about with others in the DDC for years (that’s Dead Dad Club! Sorry if you’re a member!). But grief is constantly evolving, and even now I feel different than I did a year or so ago.

When I think about it now, I realize that I’m glad I never thought of Father’s Day as anything special.
Because I know I spent so much time idolizing my father, telling him how much I loved him and spending time with him.

I will always feel robbed of these adult years with my father, but I have never felt like I wasted a minute of our time together.

We listened to records together, he taught me the Latin words for wildflowers, and he made up stories to help me sleep.

I’m marking Father’s Day now, because I can’t celebrate a normal Tuesday with him.

An earlier version of me, jealous of people’s living fathers, would have told people to cherish Father’s Day and make sure they called or gave their dad a card.

But now I think it’s more about how you handle the days that aren’t added to your phone calendar by Google. Don’t feel guilty if you forgot Father’s Day or if you didn’t get him a nice gift. Just make sure you appreciate every phone call, every family lunch, and every time you spend with the people you love.