Father's Day Without a Father

I don't remember the last Father's Day I celebrated with my father. I don't remember what I got him for a present. While I'm pretty sure I drew him a card, I couldn't tell you what was on it. I'm not sure I even saw my father much that day. I was a typical teenaged brat, annoyed with the trappings of a "fake" holiday like Father's Day.

Now, I would do anything to get that day back. I would smother my dad with hugs and kisses. I would dote on him like a daughter should on Father's Day. Hell, I would do anything at all just to have one more minute with him, just to tell him I love him.

Four months after my last Father's Day with my father, he died suddenly. I was 15 years old when I found him lying dead on the dining room floor. He was 60.

Now as a 30-year-old woman, I have spent just as many years without my dad as I had with him. I gave him presents and love for 15 Father's Days, and I have spent 15 Father's Days reminiscing about what an awesome father my dad was to me.

While I can't remember any specific Father's Days spent with my dad, I sure remember the first one after he died. Most of the week leading up to Father's Day, I spent crying. Then I bought my mother a hanging plant, because she was having to pull double duty as both a mother and a father to me and my younger sister. The first Father's Day after my dad died was a three-tissue-box day; one for me, and one for each my mother and my little sister.

I spent that Father's Day wishing I had had a better relationship with my father. I felt guilty, ashamed and incredibly sad. Words cannot even begin to describe the heartbreak I felt that day, the day we should have been honoring my dad.

Overall, despite the guilt I felt that first Father's Day without him, I would say my father and I were pretty close. He taught me important life lessons: actions speak louder than words, "because" is not a reason, don't talk into your armpit and never cut off your nose to spite your face.

He was kind, intelligent and very wise. My father had so many life-changing experiences that he brought with him in his parenting style. He never raised his voice, and he had a way of explaining things so bluntly that even in the middle of an argument, I, the headstrong and self-righteous teenager, had to stop and acknowledge that, yes, he was right.

Dad was very old-fashioned as well, and some might call him chauvinistic. I know I did when things weren't going my way. He didn't believe we girls should be out in the tractors, helping him with his morning chores of feeding the cattle. We should be inside learning how to cook and clean from our mother. He felt that men should take care of their women. Even though I fought him about it as a youngster, now I happen to agree.

Every year around Father's Day, Dad's birthday, and the anniversary of his death, I'm reminded of how lucky I was to have such a positive influence in my life, even if it was only for 15 years. I use my strong emotions during these times of the year to remind others to appreciate, love and support their parents, because while you may be very angry right now, your mother and your father could be gone in an instant.

I'm so fortunate my last words to my father were, "I love you, Dad," to which he responded, "I love you too, sunshine."