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Thoughts from Daughter #3 for Father’s Day

Thoughts from daughter #3 for Father’s Day.

Another Father’s Day is fast approaching, and all those ads and displays about what to get dad are hard to miss. I wish I could tune them all out, but that’s pretty much impossible.

Not that the day matters much. I miss my dad every day. But I think I miss him most in spring.

Who am I kidding?

I miss him most during whatever season it happens to be.

“Death is a date in the calendar, but grief is the calendar.”

The above just might be one of the truest statements ever made about grief.

Sometimes we think mentioning someone’s dear one who has died might make the grieving person too sad or too upset.

So, we choose not to talk about their dear one. Big mistake.

If there’s one thing I know to be true about grief (and other tough topics) it’s that not talking about it does not equal not thinking about it.

Talking about a dear one who is missed is usually welcomed and appreciated by the person grieving. And it’s healing. Hearing your dear one’s name being spoken can feel like soothing salve on an open wound.

Don’t hesitate to give someone this gift.

That’s what listening to someone talk about their dear one who has died is – a gift.

Today, I’m sharing a little snippet about my dad from my memoir, Cancer Was Not a Gift & It Didn’t Make Me a Better Person.

You reading this post is you giving me that gift. So, thank you.

After you read it, I would love for you to tell me something about your dad, too, if you want to.

Daughter Number Three

When I was a young girl, I asked my dad once if he was disappointed that cold February day when I was born to get the news he was once again the father of a baby girl.

He laughed, shook his Elvis-like head of thick, black hair and, of course, said no. Still, I wondered how he could not have been a little disappointed for at least an instant back then. He must’ve wished for a son at least once or twice while waiting for me to arrive. But there he was, a young father on a teacher’s salary with three daughters ages four and under.

My dad was a hands-on dad before it was cool. I don’t know how many diapers he changed, but he did “baby sit” my siblings and me all the time, did much of the cooking, was generally the one who took us to doctor appointments, was grocery shopper in-chief and drove us wherever we needed to go.

When I was in high school, I had my dad for a history teacher. It was a small-town school, so there was no one else. At school he was a well-liked teacher. Kids liked him for his quirky mannerisms like looking at the clock every few seconds during lectures and for his sense of humor, but mostly they knew he was fair and genuinely cared about them.

Having your father as your teacher could have been quite an awkward experience for a teenager, but luckily, none of my friends thought much about it or gave me a hard time when I earned my A’s from him.

It felt good to have a father who knew so much about history, told corny jokes, stopped to talk to anyone he met in the grocery store, loved football and ran the scoreboard on Friday nights.

I was proud to be his daughter, even if I was number three.

I am still proud today.

Miss you, Dad. Love you forever.

Happy Father’s Day to all men who love and nurture the children (including adult ones) in their lives.

Share something about your dad (or other father figure), if you want to. And yes, I want to hear from you if your relationship was/is poor too.

Are you missing a dear one this Father’s Day?

P.S. We discovered the photo in the featured image above in my dad’s desk drawer after he died. He had kept it close by all those years. And fyi, I also have a younger brother.

Thoughts from Daughter #3 for #FathersDay #dads #fathers #daughters #family
My handsome dad and daughter # 3 – me!
Cancer Was Not a Gift & It Didn't Make Me a Better Person


Monday 17th of June 2019

I miss Grandpa and think about him almost every day, if not every day. Little things like wondering what he would've said about something. His humor was great. I remember when I was riding in the car with him in middle school and there was a dead raccoon or something on the road and he leans over and goes, "Mustn't play in the streets!" Haha. He was also one of the only people to call me "Linds."


Tuesday 18th of June 2019

Lindsay, I know you miss him too. I'm so glad you had a special relationship and that you were able to make that final trip three years ago. I've often wondered what you talked about as he wasn't a man of many words, especially of the emotional sort. I sure do miss him. Thank you for sharing that raccoon story. Sounds like something he'd say! And I remember him calling you "Linds" too.


Wednesday 12th of June 2019

In 1967, when I was 11, my Dad suffered a stroke. One he should have never survived, but did..minus the ability to walk, use his right arm or speak. My Mom and I cared for him at home after we exhausted his medical benefits. He passed away. I have only one memory of my Dad. I know this is probably not what anyone wanted to read, I’m sorry.


Thursday 13th of June 2019

Marcia, I am glad you shared about your dad. Please don't apologize. You didn't mention how long he lived after his stroke, so I'm curious about that. Thank you for sharing about your difficult experience and memory. It might help someone else feel less alone.


Wednesday 12th of June 2019

This is a beautiful post, Nancy, and rather timely for me too. It is not Father's Day over here, but I am surrounded by reminders in this interweb connected world where advertising doesn't quite understand geographical boundaries. It is timely for me because, my son today posted notes about my father's voyage to the tiny and remote islet of Rockall as the island is currently in the news. This voyage of my father's was to become one of his most proud experiences and a small chunk of Rockall is buried with him. This is how I captured the story he was so proud of - Sending you warm hugs on this difficult Hallmark landmark x


Thursday 13th of June 2019

Philippa, It's wonderful to hear from you. Thank you for sharing the link to your post. What a lovely tribute to your father. Sending you warm hugs as well. Hope you are well. xx

Julia Griffith

Wednesday 12th of June 2019

My dad died yesterday so your post is very timely for me. My Mom and I have been through a lot the last two weeks with his sudden decline. Even though he is 96 years old it is still hard to know I cannot hear his voice or see his smile. He had some dementia but always new us and could converse with us. He just didn't remember a half hour later what we had told him. The care I have given him especially the last three years helped to pay back the debt of the wonderful childhood he and my mother gave me. I will always remember that he made me feel loved.


Thursday 13th of June 2019

Julia, I am so sorry to hear that your dad died. That makes me so sad. Yes, you and your mom have been through a lot indeed. And there is much more to go through in the days, weeks, months and years ahead. It doesn't matter that he was 96 years old. This a profound loss. Again, I'm sorry. Keeping you in my thoughts. Thank you so much for sharing about your dad.

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