Father’s Day

Today is NQ’s first time celebrating Father’s Day as a father. My father, on the other hand, is celebrating his thirty-ninth. I’ve so enjoyed watching my love become a father. Many times in the early months I asked him if he found it strange to be a father after so many years of not being one (forty-two to be exact). I remember when Big was a baby, often contemplating the title of Mother and how odd it felt to just add it to the list of things that I was. I was accustomed to being female, Jewish, American, intense, moody and so many other things, and then one day, I was just a mother too. I asked him repeatedly and he always responded by smiling. It was as if adding father to his list was effortless. Of course the day to day goings on of fatherhood continue to be an adjustment, but the becoming a father was simple. (After nearly three years of step-father-hood things are not quite so simple.)

I have no memory of my father’s development into the title but I can reflect on what I do know. My father has never let me down. We disagree. We don’t always communicate well. We have different interests. He refuses to wear his hearing aids. He has never, ever, not been at my side when I needed him. When the doctor told me to pack my bags and head to the hospital to deliver Big (three weeks early) it was my father who took me there. Nine years later when I found myself in a similar position (this time it was five weeks early) he was the first one there. There are countless other stories of his showing up or bailing me out but let me just say: here’s to you Dad.