Tomorrow is father’s day. Apparently we aren’t celebrating. He doesn’t want a card. He doesn’t want a present. And he most certainly doesn’t want us to mention it. ‘Commercial rubbish!’
Normally I would agree. I’m not one for forced fun, for days created to line the pockets of the greeting’s card industry, for sickly sentiment. I never celebrate Valentine’s Day and am not really bothered about Mother’s Day – the handmade cards from nursery are enough of a gift for me.
But something is telling me I need to view this day slightly differently.
Some of these moments ARE just special. On what other day does a man and his son really say that they love each other? When do I ever tell him what a great father he is to our son (even though he thinks he’s rubbish)? On what other day do I spend time plotting fun things to do just for him with my son?
Most of the time we are living our lives – working, playing, cleaning, walking, watching TV. We don’t really stop to think about how great a person each one of us is.
Unlike most of our friends, there’s a high chance that we won’t have as many of these forced fun days to celebrate. The reality is my son might not get to know his dad as an adult, to go down the pub with him for a pint, or watch a live rugby match together at the local ground.
I often find myself watching them together. Drinking in the images of their friendship. Imprinting the funny things they do or say together on my memory. I want it to be etched there forever, to never forget the special bond they share.
This week we found the Lego from his own childhood in the garage. He used to play with it for hours and hours and had kept it, probably unable to throw away something that once meant so much to him. He and the boy wonder have spent hours together building what can only be described as the Somerset International Space Centre – rockets, shuttles, lorries. There is a whole village of Lego people in my lounge!
It’s been a happy week as they’ve spent quality time together. There’s been excitement during the usual witching hour and my husband seems to have enjoyed the therapeutic effects of making and creating simple things once again.
So as much as I understand his desire to ‘bin’ off Father’s Day, we’re not letting him get away that lightly. The little one has renamed it ‘Wednesday,’ we’ve made him his favourite tray bake and we intend to have a day out in honour of one very special man.
A man who makes us both very happy and who we are proud of every single day. For the way he handles the lemons that life has thrown his way and for just being him.