Father’s Day

Originally posted June 16, 2019

Father’s Day 2018 was a hard day, to say the least. Chad had only been gone a little over two months, so to say the laceration from our loss was still open and raw is an understatement. All I could do was think about the Dad who was no longer here, all the Dad things he’d never do again, and all the Dad things he’d been robbed of doing in the future.

No “Daddy Daughter” dances; no Father/Son hunting trips; no walking Lilly down the aisle; no cheering for his kids at sporting events or carrying them on his shoulders or teaching them important life lessons or how to shoot guns or how to love Jesus and how to live with integrity. Every ordinary yet amazing Dad-thing he’d ever done and every dream he’d ever shared with me about his aspirations for Fatherhood were on the forefront of my mind for days leading up to Father’s Day. The mounting pressure of this day felt like an approaching hurricane that I could see miles ahead, gaining momentum as it crept closer, day by day.

In real life, there are only two ways you deal with a hurricane – you can evacuate, or you can ride out the storm. The problem with emotional hurricanes is there is nowhere to evacuate your mind to escape the impending and paralyzing grief of milestone or anniversary days … no healthy way anyway.

I’ve lived enough life to know that your problems and feelings are still there when you wake up from your hangover. There is no drink or pill that will take the pain of life away, and far too many times have I watched people I know try to escape their personal suffering with drugs and alcohol or relationships or any number of distractions the world has to offer, only to end up in a much deeper hole with steeper walls to climb in order to get out.

You can’t outrun grief… with substances or with denial. Whatever unhealthy (non)coping mechanism you choose will eventually fail.

There is really only one way to deal with storms like these – you face them head on. You board up the windows and you bunker down, if necessary, but you stand and face the whirlwind of despair, knowing that it won’t last forever, because there is always a calm on the other side of the storm.

Everyone’s grief journey is unique, so everyone will probably have an equally unique method of getting through hard days and weathering emotional storms, and these methods will likely continue to evolve as the intensity of grief changes over time, but for Father’s Day 2018, my idea of “board up and bunker down” went something like this – “June 17, 2018 is a completely normal day just like any other.”

I sent no cards. I went to no celebrations. I gave no presents. I ate no cake. I released no balloons. I did nothing special or appreciative or commemorative. I didn’t tell my kids it was Father’s Day. I didn’t go to church. I didn’t check Facebook to see everyone’s “My husband is the best Dad ever” posts. I did nothing except stay home, feed my kids, think about Chad, and wait for the day to end.

Feel. Process. Repeat. All day.

That probably sounds selfish and callous to some of you. Like, “Geez, you’re so self-absorbed that you couldn’t even celebrate your own Dad on Father’s Day?”

And my answer to that is just simply, “Yes.”

Because you don’t have to understand something to choose not to judge it or be offended by it. And that’s what I needed to do on that day to survive. And what you soon realize in situations like this, is that your mental survival is far more important than other people’s opinions.

But luckily for me, I have the most amazing Dad and Fathers-in-Law who did neither of those things and just let Father’s Day pass quietly without even a smidgen of guilt or contention.

Which brings me to the real reason for this post….

Happy Father’s Day to the most amazing Dad – Randy Manek, and Father-in-Law Steve Robinson and Kelly Ferguson. You have each stood by me and supported me in your own unique and powerful ways. In your humility and sacrifice to put me and the kids above yourselves, I’ve seen the truest heart of a Father – one that would deny himself any right and gladly lay down any entitlement just to lessen the burden of his child; one that would willingly bear the heaviest load on his shoulders just to ease the suffering of his children. For everything you have done over the last year especially, I hope you know that I am eternally grateful. I thank the Lord all the time for your love for me and for your involvement and influence on my kids. I love you all, from the bottom of my heart.

I also feel like I’d like to wish a Happy Father’s Day to all the other men out there who have looked upon my kids with compassion over this last year and stepped into their world, whether regularly or momentarily, to lend them the love of a Father. When you offer to kick a ball with them or help them tie their shoelace or implore them to “respect their mother”, you show them that while their Father isn’t here any longer, the love of a Father is something that resides in many, and there are many who will care for them and teach them in his absence. You remind them of what it’s like to have someone else who thinks they are special; you give them someone else to look up to; and you fill a tiny fragment of the hole in their hearts, even if only for a moment, in ways that I cannot.

This Father’s Day, I’m really just overwhelmed with appreciation for all the Fathers in our lives. I am so thankful for you all, and I know if Chad can see us, he’d be so overwhelmed with gratitude for how you have cared for and shown so much love and kindness to the people he loved the most in this life.

Happy Father’s Day to you all,

Shannon & the Kids