There is a hell of a lot to smile about. We need to remember that.
Today is Father’s Day and I have the privilege of telling my favorite man in the world that I am lucky to call him my Dad. As we get older and eventually grow up, the world becomes more and more confusing. Adresses change, friends move away, bills pile up, somehow you’re supposed to decide what the last 20 some years of your life meant…”oh hello, yes, what are you going to do forever?”
A realization I’ve had in the year that has passed since I’ve begun supporting myself is that this stuff can be hard. Really hard. The other day sitting in my room after taking the bus home from a long day at work all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and check out. I could. I did. It was then that I thought about my parents, and how for 18 years of my life there were probably many times when all they wanted to do was curl up and check out but instead had three kids to care of, food to put on the table, checks to write, summer camps forms to fill out, reading logs to sign, soccer games to attend, crust to cut off, movies to be rented, birthday parties to plan, tears to dry, clothes to wash, Furbys to buy.
It is always the little things taken for granted. For 25 years each time I come home there is 1% milk in the fridge. My whole family drinks nonfat but I find it ~watery and always want that extra percent to pour on my cereal. My Mom makes sure it is there each time I come home. She puts my sisters and I before herself on every level one could and there is not a day that goes by that I don’t think to myself how lucky I would be to be even half of the woman and mother she is.
My Dad works from 7 in the morning to 7 at night. He has for decades. He must have been damn tired when he got home from work every day and was met with three girls who had drawings to show him, sports teams to be coached, and Berenstein Bear books that needed to be read. As I got older, I needed my Dad for even more. I needed to learn how to drive, I needed to move to Oregon and get a degree, I needed a mend for a broken heart, I needed a companion to see Toy Story 3 with and eat Chipotle.
Throughout everything in my life my parents have never wavered. They’ve never used ‘being tired’ as an excuse to not be there.
It sounds strange, but the 1% milk being in the fridge is a testament to how much and one more reason why I love my family. The stark realization of just how much it takes to be an adult has made me ever more grateful for having my parents to guide me into it. We don’t say it enough. We’re all lucky to be here, but it is the people who make it easier to open our eyes each morning that we don’t thank. We become accustomed to love. We expect it…when in reality there are plenty of people who need it. Who have lost it. Who never had it at all.
More so than ever, I find myself grateful for the people I can call when life hurts. Two of those people have and always will be my parents. And for that, I am lucky. M&D thank you for continuing to remind me what it is to be loved. I love you forever. Like you for always. As long as I am living my M&D you will be.