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Father’s Day is not an easy time for me.
My father died in 2007, in March. He couldn’t be interred until the cemetery he and my mother wanted to use was opened for the spring. Thaws, unexpected snowfalls, a crime scene (some of the burial plots on a hill in the cemetery eroded…) – all contributed to delaying his interrment.
My mother decided that Dad would be interred and the graveside services would be on = Father’s Day, 2007. That decision took a day intended to be a family gathering and cast over it a spell that I can’t seem to shake.
It was a brilliant, beautiful, sunny and hot as hell day. I spent most of it indoors. I didn’t want to go to strawberry festivals, have a barbeque, or even visit with people on this day. I want this day to be special. Private. Quiet. I would even prefer to be out of town, doing something that doesn’t involve me celebrating the day we buried my father.
He wasn’t an easy man to live with. It turns out that he’s not an easy man to remember in death, either.
My dad passed away on Father’s Day in 2002, and it’s a tough holiday to deal with, even if the date moves around. Today I called Mom and she said she went to the cemetery to visit him; she also went Wednesday, since he left this world on the 16th. It’s weird when there are specific dates or holidays that remind us of things like this, but we move on and deal with it in our own ways. But we never forget, so the best we can do is hope to find the best things that happened to remember at these times. Thanks for sharing your story.