Saturday, June 20, 2009

A Different Sort of Father's Day


It is officially midnight. Father's Day is now here (at least that's the way I visualize how my birthday begins each year).

Father's Day has such a different meaning for me this year as many of you know. I have been leaky for the last few days, weeping at the site of babies, old men, bagels, Elmers glue, photos of my dad, blue-eyed people, small mentions of my father. Sometimes nothing at all. My cat yawned and there I was blubbering again. Sigh.

Tonight I remembered something that I took from my father's things: a book I made him in 1996 for Father's Day. It's a book of photographs of me and my father through the years -- along with my mom and two brothers. I adorned each page with a smattering of painted designs and used gel medium to make the whole thing glossy. I also bound the cardboard pages with white string.

I made this when I was about 20 years old, a college student piecing together my life -- and counting on my dad's strength, grace, and wisdom.

I scanned in each page and made a little slide show in honor of my dad today.

May all those who have lost your fathers feel their presence in some way today and may any tears that flow remind you of your ever-present connection.

7 comments:

  1. this is a very nice tribute. it's so good to paint/create things from your memories.

    were you born on father's day?
    i was too. weird.

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  2. that's a beautiful book! sending you a hug and some peace, jennifer

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  3. thanks for this one. lost my dad 34 years ago this february. father's day is always a sadness....i did not know him as an adult and for that i grieve. for all of you that have your fathers and have a good relationship with them? treasure it! xox

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  4. In memory of John Murray Wilson, whose humor and audacity sustain me.

    It gets better. The hurt will fade, you'll cry less and smile more. And you'll understand more about him with time. Memories will eliminate the loss and illuminate the gain.

    The death of a father feels like a shove, but it's more of a push—the last gift of a nurturing soul letting go of your hand and seeing you off on your journey to adulthood. A good parent is like training wheels.

    WV: "mentie" (how appropriate)

    Wishing for you a Happy Father's Day, all in all.

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  5. The anniversaries and holidays are tough aren't they? I love your slideshow.
    Hey, I didn't know you knew my bud Wendy!

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  6. What lovely comments to receive from you all today. Thank you for your love and support today.

    Jim, I like what you have to say about the loss feeling like a "push." For me this push is toward groundedness and strength.

    Wishing you all the best, and thank you again...

    hugs,
    Courtney

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  7. This is beautiful. Thanks for sharing.

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