The Emotional Rollercoaster that is Father’s Day
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The Emotional Rollercoaster that is Father’s Day

The Emotional Rollercoaster that is Father’s Day

Father figures have been a challenging theme throughout my life, and Father’s Day has never been easy. Every year, I dreaded shopping for a Father’s Day card because it was a reminder of what a father should be and what I wished I had. 

My father moved away when I was 5. I vividly remember the night he left. I ran into his arms, clutched his neck and begged him not to leave as I sobbed. I cried myself to sleep for what seemed like years. 

My mother remarried and when I was 7, I received a little brother whom I adore. His father, my mother’s second husband, molested me when I was 9 and abruptly ended my childhood. 

Throughout most of my young life, the relationship with my biological father remained distant both physically and emotionally. He would call on Christmas and my birthday in February. When I entered high school, he attempted to be more involved. He called weekly, sent an allowance, bought my first car, paid my car insurance. 

I knew it wouldn’t last. He battled drug addiction, so when his calls grew farther apart, it meant he was using again. Inevitably, I’d get the call that he was in rehab, again. 

Walking down the Father’s Day card aisle every year awakens those unhappy memories.

When I was in college, my mother introduced me to Steve, a man with a tough exterior but squishy teddy bear interior. He is who I call my stepfather. Mom asked what I thought of him. I responded, “I love the way he looks at you.” 

We became close over the 10 years he spent in our lives. I finally enjoyed picking out Father’s Day cards because I finally had a father figure who fit those mushy descriptions. 

On Father’s Day 2009, Steve unexpectedly passed away. I was the last family member to speak to him while he was conscious. While standing at the edge of his emergency room bed, I said, “Hi Steve, it’s Chrissy. I’m here. I love you!” 

They rushed me out of the room. Hours later, I stood next to his bed with my mother and his son to say goodbye as they turned off the machines. 

It has been 12 years since Steve’s death. That Father’s Day card aisle is the longest walk I take every year. I try to choose a time that will be less busy because I always stand in front of the cards crying. 

My biological father and I have developed a healthy relationship and have become close. I have forgiven and accepted him for who he is, knowing he did the best he could. 

In my eternally optimistic way, I am grateful for all of the “fathers” I have had in my life, for their roles in my development. They’ve all contributed to the person I am today.

 

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