Fathers Be Good to Your Daughters. Daughters Will Love Like You Do

Of all the Hallmark holidays, Father’s Day doesn’t cost me a dime. No grandfathers, godfather or father-in-law. For the past seven years, not even the father-of-my-children which saves me money not having to buy ugly tank tops and Yankees shirts for the boys to excitedly give him. Father’s Day use to be a testosterone filled, toilet seat in the vertical position, who-is-playing-on-what-field day. It’s anything but that now.

Four years ago, my dad died.  It wasn't totally unexpected.  He had been sick on and off for about a year, with the doctors misdiagnosing his pulmonary fibrosis.  He died three days after Wingman's birthday, and I literally WILLED him to stay alive at least a day past that so I wouldn't be forced to say "Yep, today is Wingman's birthday and the day Dad died.” It may not have been as much my will as his final wish to see his great granddaughter one more time before he died. I guess I know where I get my stubbornness from.