I read a wonderful piece in today's Sunday newspaper insert of Parade written by Harlan Coben. In a lovely, poignant tribute to his father, Mr Coben left me with tears and warm thoughts about my own dad.
I knew at some point today I would "go there". I was approaching Father's Day in a low key manner, subconsciously hoping to forget it altogether. In fact I did forget it as far as my father-in-law was concerned. I forgot to send him a card and for that I will apologize later this evening.
Mr Coben describes an emotional moment in his piece, a breakdown he has when he happens upon a long ago taken photograph of himself and his dad. He was just a small boy in the photo and his dad looked young, vital and full of life. His commentary so touching, especially so when he writes, " I would give anything to kiss that cheek just one more time." Having lost my own dad just three months ago...I would give anything for that one last kiss on his cheek as well.
I have a photo that I can't look at without welling up. It's one of a bunch of photos I have of my dad and me that I've been looking at often since he passed. Trying to reach back and feel something other than loss, I look at the photographs hoping to touch something. This one is of my dad walking me down the aisle on my wedding day. It's a personal moment for me, one I look at now with a twinge of regret. You see I didn't want my dad to escort me to the altar. At the time I was full of feminist notions and found the whole idea of being handed off from father to husband both archaic and insulting. I thought about walking down that aisle by myself as a show of independence. My dad left the decision to me and I chose tradition because I knew it meant something to him to have the honor of escorting his daughter to her marriage. How gracious of me.
What a fool I was and that's why regret pokes me when I look at that photo. My dad knew I didn't want to be escorted and I regret that he knew I even considered otherwise. For as much as that man had given me, I was willing to take something from him to satisfy my own pride. Sadly, it wasn't until he was gone that I felt that regret, regret I will feel from here on out. Regret I feel when I look at that photo. And rightfully so and I would give anything now to kiss his cheek and tell him that I am sorry. Sorry for being so foolish.
Back to Coben's piece in Parade. He ties it up almost perfectly by writing, "As the old proverb says, “When a father gives to his son, they both laugh. When a son gives to his father, they both cry.” Almost perfect because the proverb leaves something out. It's not just fathers and sons who give with laughter and tears. For you see ... a daughter, this daughter, will not ever forget what she was given. She will always hold the hope that she gave enough. Gave enough indeed
Happy Father's Day dad.
