Father’s Day is coming, has come, or has past, depending on when this post goes up but none the less I feel the day should be celebrated in some way, shape, or form. Knowing people that don’t have their father around has really let me enjoy what my father does for my household everyday. Even now, I find that most of the time my dad does everything without thanks and appreciation.
Even though my father has always been more strict than my mother, I’ve always gravitated towards him and have always loved being around him. Up until this point in my life, I never appreciated the discipline that he provided and now I realize that it was this discipline that kept me safe and has allowed me to become who I am today. Most of that discipline came with the fear of getting spankings and even to this day I’m still afraid of him and it’ll probably remain that way for years to come. That fear forced me to never bring home bad grades, do things that I shouldn’t be doing, and providing me with the knowledge of what is right and wrong. So in some ways I respect the fear that he instilled on my sister and I.
Relationship are always up and down but with fear there is also happiness and my most memorable moments come with spending time with my father. Whether it’s as simple as watching TV with him or helping him with his garden, I just love spending time with him. I can honestly say that he is the best person that I have ever known. There is not one person in my life that has done more for me than my father has. He has always been caring and even now it’s weird because when I stay out late, he sometimes stays up to make sure I get home ok. Even though my mom doesn’t like the idea of me going away to school next semester, I think my dad will be even more worried.
But the real reason for this post is that I feel as though father’s especially the good one’s, don’t get enough credit for their sacrifices in providing for their family. Even though Father’s Day is the perfect day to say thank you, it should be everyday and that’s something I definitely need to work on. Every time I see my dad working over the stove to make dinner or coming back from a long day of work, it makes me think about what he has done for my sister, mom, and I. And I’d like to end this post with one of my favorite poems by my boy Robert Hayden called “Those Winter Sundays” about a father less appreciated.
Sundays too my father got up early
And put his clothes on in the blueback cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.
I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,
Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?
Happy Father’s Day to everyone’s father.
