Fathers Day

 

If you were here today, you'd have seen our sons splashing each other in the brook.

You would have seen how much our middle child loves it there.

Our middle child, his hair is just like your brother's hair. His eyes are your eyes. He has my freckles.

He loves grabbing fistfuls of wet dirt, and finding flat rocks, and as he kicks the water he asks a million questions I don't have the answers to.

Maybe you would have known some of the answers. 

If you were here today, you'd have seen our baby boy who is now five.

You'd have seen him playing elaborate games with his stuffed animals on the kitchen floor.

He watches videos of dads and their young sons online. He laughs with them.

He loves stories of boys playing with their daddies, silly games and scary games and adventure games. 

Sometimes he loves pretending to be a baby. 

I think he thinks if he becomes a baby, you might come back.

If you were here today, you'd have seen the drawings our daughter made.

You'd see her incredible talent. She is better than anyone I know. 

She's so talented and you will never know. You will never know. You will never see her drawings. 

She shows them all to me because she has no you to show them to. 

She must wish she could show her dad just one, maybe just one of her amazing drawings.

I called my father this morning and wished him a Happy Father's Day, and I cried because he is not present enough in my life, and I wish he were more here.

But I can say to my dad "I wish you would visit more" and he answers "I'm sorry, I will visit more."

You are absent for our children. Absolutely absent. 

I got off the phone with my father and our youngest asked why I was crying and I said it was because I wanted my dad to come visit, I missed him, and our youngest said "where is my dad?" and goddamn, Chris. Goddamn.