The wound is too fresh. Healing takes time, I guess. It’s been six months.
Images of fathers dominate social media this weekend. It’s difficult to look too closely at pictures of my friends’ fathers, those departed and those still celebrating life. It’s easier to not look, to take a break from Facebook for the weekend.
I knew this day would come, just as other difficult days will come – his birthday, their anniversary, Christmas. I had my daddy for 56 years and for that I am so very grateful, but I can’t talk about him this Father’s Day. My throat constricts and tears pool.
There will be a time when I’ll write about my father because he was quite a guy – a loving husband to my mother and a true friend to his friends. But I’ll not write this weekend, because he was my daddy. And he’s not here anymore.