The funeral for my son’s father had been delayed. The funeral homes were backed up with COVID cases. His widow, myself (the ex-wife), and his mother-in-law were all staying in the house shortly after to manage the new situation.

We shared the responsibilities of cooking, cleaning, running errands, shuttling children, etc., all of us numb and deep in grief.

My son's father and I hadn't been married in 14 years. His passing was unexpected.

Sitting there facing the urn and the flowers for an hour, I found the service to be more complex than expected.

It made everything real.

The objects were an in-your-face reminder that this person was truly gone.

Our very tall, near-17-year-old leaned on me once.

The local church prepared a feast that was packed up and sent home. I was relieved we wouldn't be crammed in the kitchen, each of us trying to continue fixing overwhelming emotions through cooking and baking.

That night, none of us needed to do anymore.

This Father's Day, my son doesn't get to wish his father a "Happy Father's Day." Some of you have also lost your fathers.

There are no gifts to present, no conversations to be had, and no special bonding to take place in this plane of existence.

My son's father is no longer here to teach my son how to do many of the things a young man needs a father to do: spot and kill different snakes, better methods of being efficient with your work, how to woo women, or how to not freak out when you drive on the freeway the first few times. He is no longer here to bond with, to watch re-runs of Impractical Jokers with, or to discuss politics.

Fathers that are gone are no longer here to be angry with or to forgive in person.

My son's father died on a September day, early in the afternoon.

It takes nine months for a baby to develop. Nine months to go through most of the major holidays in the United States, which are now heavily stained with a slight stench of stale-something-or-other. Between his passing and now, they've been challenging and awkward.

Will it take nine months each year for my son to grow and heal layer-by-layer from his father's passing?

This is the second Father's Day without him.

The first one, we were deep in our travels. We went to the movies that day and went out to eat in honor of him.

There was no way my efforts made up for his father's absence and no way the attempts to honor his father that day didn't leave his heart feeling every bit of the newly permanent absence.

I tried to prop it up without having it all come crumbling down.

I could viscerally feel the pain he tried to hide with every attempt I made.

He was his father.

Very few scenarios exist where a man can be replaced as a father. My ex-husband was nowhere near perfect, but nobody in my son's life deserved to have that man quickly and unexpectedly ripped from their life.

Before I last saw my son in the spring, I gave him a leather-bound journal. I thought maybe he could use this to write letters to his dad.

The mention of it left an awkward silence.

I tried to recover quickly from my blunder, "Or grocery lists and to-do-lists and stuff, or you know -- you can give it away. It's yours to do with as you please."

My attempts to channel male bravado at the moment failed miserably.

• Will my son try this exercise?

• Will he try writing to someone no longer with us who will never be forgotten?

• Will there be soft words surrounding his traditional Cuban cooking, the laughs shared, and gratefulness for the protectiveness over the safety of him and his siblings?

• Will there be guarded words surrounding the cautionary tales of communism he shared from growing up on and escaping the large Caribbean island?

• Will harsh words be written in all capital letters and then covered in myriad scribbles to confront realizations or unresolved anger?

• Will there be forgiving words for all of it, because he is no longer here, and something must transform or be truly forgiven to heal?

My son is grown and on his own now. I won't be present this year due to my travels.

This year, he's physically without a father or a mother.

I'll call, of course, but it won't be the same.

I'm not Dad. I never will be. No one will be. Ever.

Today, take a small moment and be grateful for your biological parents, dead or alive. You're here because of them. If that's all you can be thankful for, then be grateful for just that.

Sometimes, it's OK to acknowledge that for some of you, that was literally their only purpose. If you weren't here, your grandchildren or great-grandchildren wouldn't be here either.

For some of you, procreation was their sole purpose and gift, even if they never knew it.

Celebrate Father's Day in any way that's meaningful to you, and that brings you peace.

Try to honor the good no matter what your relationship is or was with your father on this day.

• Be flexible.

• Be kind to yourself.

• Be kind to others on this day.

Happy Father's Day to all the men, living or dead, whoever attempted to teach us or a child anything full of value or good.

The good we leave behind in those around us are memories, teachings, knowledge, and legacies.

Some fathers may be missing now, but they are never forgotten.

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One Line

One-liners are sentences meant to prompt your memories and stimulate your creativity. Use them, if you want, to see what your brain comes up with. Do you see an image in your mind, feel something, remember something?

Whatever it is, start writing it down. There's no right or wrong answer. 🥳

The silver reflected against the water, and the wind was high.

Mission

Write your thoughts and feelings about your father, no matter what they are. Just get it out. It can be one word or many. Be kind to yourself. Let yourself feel everything if it is painful, and write in any way on the page that makes you come back into a neutral or relieved state.

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