It’s Father’s Day today.
Last night over dinner I was asked if I missed my Dad.
Yes I do… but, though it’s weird to say it, I wish I missed him more.
Admittedly I was never really close to my father; we kids were mostly taken care of by Mum and our closest relatives. He wasn’t the ideal father figure for many reasons, but in any case, he was still our father. He was a lot closer to his friends and boy scouts whom he taught for a period of time, had a lot of respect for him, a relationship I’m proud yet envious of.
I went for a walk this afternoon around Balls Head; it was a cold but sunny Winter’s day. On the way back I took a different route that the usual road, and came to this little hidden circular lookout point that had a pretty good view of the Harbour Bridge.
As I was standing there a sudden thought entered my mind and I said out loud, “Happy Father’s Day, Dad”. I couldn’t help but break into a sob.
I wish I could have sent him a card he’d receive in his hands and read.
I wish he could have paid his taxes, renewed his passport and visited me here.
I wish when I was younger, I had made a better attempt at getting to know him.
I wish I had the kind of close relationship he had with his peers and students.
I wish I was a better daughter who knew who her father really was.
I wish I didn’t feel so bad not missing him more than I should.
I wish I was closer to him.
I wish for so many things, most of all I wish he was still alive, even though we don’t speak to each other much, or have lengthy conversations about anything, I just wish he was there for me to call and say to him, Happy Father’s Day, Dad.