Father’s Day is the day to show your appreciation for everything your dad has done for you. Their sacrifices, support, and all of the little moments you will remember as you watch your own children blossom.
For some, though, it is a reminder of what you have lost. I used to believe that grief got better with time, but after losing those close to me personally, I beg to differ. The INTENSITY of the pain isn’t as strong, but that raw pain never goes away.
I remember this day so fondly. It was one of the rare times that it snowed here in San Antonio. My grandparents and I lived in this house that I reside in now, and I ran outside and frolicked like a child around in the snow, though I was about 15 years old.
I saw Grandpa chuckling from the kitchen window, shaking his head. I imagined him saying, “dear lord, these women!”, because he always said he was outnumbered by the women around him.
I found myself laying face up in our driveway with my eyes closed. I opened my mouth and tried to catch the dinky little flakes that Texas graced me with. I heard a wicked laugh behind me and sat up to see Grandpa, crouched down, forming a snowball. I giggled and came to a standing position , smiling so hard that my lips cracked (that and from the cold wind gusting around me).
No WAY he was going to throw that snowball. I didn’t think he would, since he had rare playful moments, but as soon as I turned my back….BAM!! And this wasn’t a fluffy soft snowball, either. Before long, we were engaged in a hard snowball fight.
We ended up shoving against each other in a huff, Grandpa grunting and telling me, “alright, alright, I’m not interested!”, in his usual grumpy fashion. For some reason, his grumpiness already spurred me on even more, and I highly enjoyed poking him in the ribs to make him grunt. He was so dang cute!!
This same afternoon, I slid in the ice and dislocated my knee. Quite possibly, the most painful injury I’ve ever had, but there was Grandpa, picking me up, and getting me inside.
He was always there when I needed him. When he slipped away inside his own mind many years later, I still felt that connection. He’ll never leave.
Happy Father’s Day, Grandpa!!