beautiful, messy, happy father's day

Sometimes I hate complexity.

Sometimes it's so much easier to tell the simple, neat version of the story, even though the authentic narrative is much more complex.

Father's Day is one of those days.  And I say that not to shame my father - we both honestly acknowledge that our relationship has been up and down, and that even though its much better than it was, it still takes work even currently.   That our relationship is not Hallmark perfect.  And that most greeting cards don't fit the bill. Our relationship is messy. Gritty. Good, but in process. And has way more history than any of us can explain.  This is fact, it is not shame or drama, and we both acknowledge both that, and our mutual desire for it to continue to grow wiser, healthier and better.  I celebrate that healing, and were I to have actually mailed my dad's father's day card on time (oops, still sitting on the coffee table), it would have said something very similar.

In the midst of that, today is also the first Father's day that I get to officially celebrate my husband as a new dad - we celebrated last year, in pregnancy, but now we have the chubby, adorable goods in hand.  On a humorous note, S celebrated Jon's first Father's day by spitting up on him not once but twice, literally within a minute of me handing him to Jon and saying, "wish Daddy a Happy Father's day."  This bodes well for the future.  But in all honesty, with as much objectivity as I have, Jon is a wonderful father and a fantastic husband.  Our son, our children, and I are incredibly lucky to have him.  He is without question, one of the best gifts I and they have ever received, every day, not just today. And we are in process of figuring out together, what it means to be good parents.

So in many ways, it would be so much easier to put up a nice, simple facebook status and let that be that.  But my heart, my promise, my story - in all its value of depth and beauty and honor of the rough, raw, grittiness of work-in-process - says that that is not sufficient.  It's far too shallow for all the hard work and beauty that has been won.

So friends, if you share with me, with the broken, messy, beautiful, in-process story, this post is for you.

For those of you wrestling today, for whom Father's day is complicated, I just want to say to you - you are not alone.  I see you. I am you. I know it's hard, and I honor your hearts desire for what whole relationship with your children or your father should be, but for whatever reason, isn't fully.  I celebrate with you in the memories, the heart-longings for better, and the small victories.  The phone calls, cards and visits, no matter how long or short.  And I urge us together, press in, press on, long for better, best.

For those of you for whom the image of father is absent, missing, ugly, painful, and hurting, it's okay to cry today instead of celebrate.  Sometimes weeping is the truest way to honor what should have been, what is right and good, but isn't presently or has never been - it reflects a deeper longing for the good, a mourning for the missing parts, than we can sometimes ever do with words.  I mourn with you, the hurt, the broken, the absent, and the longed-for-but-wasn't.  I won't give you cliche words or action items attempting to fill that void; it's not that simple to fill a father-sized hole.

For those of you who have lost father, grandfather, child, father-figure, brother - I honor the sweetness and the sorrow.  The laughter, the memories, the absence, and the tears.  If we were together today, I would ask you to tell me your stories, again, and again and I would laugh and cry with you, as we both celebrated and missed what was and we wish could still be.

And for those of you for whom the name daddy would be the sweetest that you can imagine, but your arms are [still] empty, I sit in waiting, longing and hope for you.  I don't know, if, when or how your longings will or won't be answered.   I don't know why.  I don't know a lot, really.  But today I sit with you in that longing, and pray for solid ground under your feet in the waiting.

To my Dad, Happy Father's day.  I love you, and I am grateful for all the ways that you have worked hard over the years to provide for our family.  I am grateful for your steadfast commitment to mom - and the way that you two love each other in simple day-to-day ways.  I am grateful for the ways that you have welcomed Jon and S with open arms.  And I am grateful for the ways that you and I have pressed into the complexity, the history, and the messy of this father-daughter relationship.  That's way richer than any greeting card slogan I could give you.  I am proud of us - where we are, not where we want to be - and that's beauty of what I mean when I wish you a happy father's day!

To my husband, Happy Father's Day.  Te amo.  I am so grateful for you, and the husband and father that you are to me and to our son.  You are so good with him, and so strong and tender with me.  He adores you, even though he currently communicates that by spit-up volume. I know that this parenting this is also messy and complex, and isn't going to get easier - but even in the midst of that complexity, messiness, and ups and down, I am so glad that we get to do it together.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

I don't know a lot of things, but I do know that fathers matter a whole heck of a lot.  And whether today is a happy, meat-and-manliness filled celebration of your best-father-ever or a day marked by quietly attempting to avoid all facebook statuses and ignore the inner emotions, or like me, just one that comes with complexity and the awkwardness of figuring it out - 

Happy Father's day.  I stand here with you, not with answers or simple solutions, but simply standing with you in the complexity, celebrating, regardless of where we are, authentic to where we are.

- KD