I’ve been feeling “off” for a while now. Past few weeks, I’d say. Sure, I’ve been (intentionally) over-working myself to finish one book and start another. Sure, I’ve been speaking a lot. Yeah, doing one’s taxes and finding out you owe money is no fun, but it’s more than that.
It’s Fathers’ Day.
It started pretty small. Just that niggling feeling. “Yeah, Father’s Day is coming.” And as the day draws closer, that feeling begins tearing. Ripping into things. Something that just colors the world in a muted gray.
Why?
First off, my own kids are 3,000 miles away. So seeing them and spending Father’s Day with them isn’t going to happen.
Next, my own dad passed away about 18 years ago when I was about 22. My dad passed yes as I was becoming a man. Just as he and I were starting to work through things left over from my teenage years.
So I look on Father’s Day as … something that just always hurts. I’m sure that I’ll be able to shake off the gray after tomorrow passes, until then … I’ll just manage.