Why I Hated Father’s Day
And How I’m Learning to Cope
In 2012, I never imagined I’d hate Father’s Day. I was married with children. Although my dad lived three hours away at the time, my relationship with him was easily the best and strongest it had ever been.
My dad didn’t let the physical distance further separate us. We talked every weekend. Not only did we talk every weekend, but he would also call me randomly and say things like “hey baby, really quick, tell [insert random person] that you’re in grad school”, or “hey baby, really quick, tell [insert another random person] how smart my grandson is”.
Ah, how many times I found myself awkwardly speaking to an old buddy of his, or a distant cousin, or a co-worker. My dad was the poster for proud dad and proud granddad. He wore it like a badge of honor. His calls were heartwarmingly annoying.
At midnight of that pivotal year, I text my dad, wishing him a happy Father’s Day. He did not respond. It was really atypical of him, but I didn’t think too much of it. Later that morning, however, I sent him pictures of the kids; we’d taken them to the Magic House two days prior. Again, he didn’t respond, which was so unlike him.
A few hours later, I called him. We talked, but it was different, off. He seemed distracted. The conversation was rushed, but it contained his key phrases.
“Hey, baby!”
“How are my grandkids?” He always emphasized my as if they were more his grandkids than my kids.
“You know your old dad is just cooling out.”
“Talk to you later.” He never ended a call with goodbye.
The moment the call was over, everything felt WRONG. I had an intense urge to call him back; I felt like I needed to tell him everything right then. I wanted to tell him the real reason I’m afraid of butterflies. I wanted to confess that I’d snuck out of the house when I was 16. I wanted to thank him for being the first person to meet my firstborn.
I told myself I was just being silly and that I would talk to him next weekend.
If I have a singular regret in my life, it is that I never called him back that day. Four days later, he was gone. Heart attack. No more weekend chats with dad. Ever. Father’s Day 2012 was the last day I ever spoke to my dad.
Losing my dad is a sad fact of my life. But, it isn’t the sole reason I came to hate Father’s Day. I was able to spend the next few years celebrating the day with my husband and kids. During that time, Father’s Day was challenging, but it was also manageable.
It wasn’t until 2019 that Father’s Day became an incredibly difficult day. I’d been divorced for two months, and my kids were spending Father’s Day weekend with their dad. I was home alone, and without warning, I was overcome with grief.
Everything came at once- the tears, the sadness, the heartache. I once had two reasons to celebrate Father’s Day, but now I had none. I hadn’t heard my dad’s voice in seven long years, and this realization sat with me heavily. I felt obnoxiously lonely for the first time in a long time.
In that moment, I decided that I officially hated Father’s Day. I hated it for all the reasons I once enjoyed celebrating it. I hated Father’s Day because it was a 24-hour long reminder of all that I had lost.
Father’s Day of 2020 and 2021 were no better as I attempted to manage two very different but very real losses. Paired with the pandemic, those two years were particularly isolating and lonely.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m happy that fathers all over can be celebrated and honored. I’m happy that my kids spend Father’s Day weekend with their dad because they love him and want to. I, on the other hand, found it to be a day that I unwillingly slipped into a solemn mood, visited by a grief that overstayed its unwelcome and burdened by the weight of my failures.
In early spring 2022, I was already dreading Father’s Day. The impending day loomed over my heart. Avoiding social media for 24 hours was not enough, I’d already learned. Staying home was hard. Going out and encountering happy families was hard, too.
Not only had Father’s Day driven me mad for three consecutive years, but the thought of Father’s Day was now driving me mad.
I decided I wouldn’t spend another Father’s Day at home sad, and maybe I would take my sadness on a roadtrip. I figured being away from the familiar would accomplish one of two things. Either being in new surroundings would distract me, or worst case scenario, I would be sad somewhere else.
I intended to make the roadtrip a solo one. At the last minute, hours before leaving, I invited my mom. Without hesitating, she agreed to come along with me.
It turns out, a mother-daughter road trip was just what I needed. My mom, forever the conversationalist, didn’t give me too much opportunity to fall into the sadness that I was growing accustomed to.
We arrived late Saturday afternoon at our destination, dropped our bags in our hotel room, and went to explore on foot. We walked and talked until our stomachs begged us to stop and eat. We found a restaurant and over-ordered, sharing our dishes with each another.
The next morning, we had brunch before spending the majority of the day at museums. Again, I was so distracted with her enthusiasm and the excitement of being in a new city that I didn’t have time to feel overwhelmed with grief, although it did wander into my headspace a few times.
I think my dad would have been happy that I was able to spend Father’s` Day relatively happy.
That weekend taught me that although I lost a lot, I still had much to be thankful for. No, my mom will never call me to speak to [insert random person] about my or my kids’ accomplishments. No, she doesn’t call me “baby.” But, she is there for me when I need her, just the same.
Last Father’s Day was an invaluable lesson. I had the same reasons to hate Father’s Day, but I approached it differently and with foresight. I don’t have it all figured out, but this is what I’ve drawn from last year that helped me cope:
- Changing the scenery can change the mindset
- Allowing myself healthy distractions
- Cultivating other relationships may lessen the pain (In fact, I think my dad would want this, especially my relationship with my mother.)
- Being grateful for everything that remains
For a long time, I thought Father’s Day robbed me. Today, I choose to view it as a watershed day in my heart. I am grateful that my last talk with my dad gave me the chance to wish him a happy Father’s Day, tell him I love him, and let him know how much he was appreciated.
