In my head I have a mental count of all the hard things we have coming up that I know will be difficult without Pete because they are milestones or important events.
In that count, up until last week, I had somehow missed including Father’s Day.
But it came crashing into reality this week as advertising paraphernalia and shopping merchandise reached fever pitch.
It was probably in direct correlation with my levels of anxiety around making sure the kids would have a day that would celebrate their Dad, even though he is no longer here.
Because, irrespective of where he was now, he was a Dad worth celebrating.
This week has seemingly lurched towards today like a sinking ship that has inexplicably navigated it’s way into a safe harbour, thanks largely to friends, alcohol and my sheer refusal to accept I can‘t control all things...
On Tuesday, I had been talking to one child who was blissfully unaware Sunday was Father’s Day and on this revelation when I asked what she would like to do, lead us to a solid 20 minutes of tears.
On Wednesday I made a gift shop assistant scurry out the back when I said I was looking for a Father’s Day gift for my children who no longer had a Dad with them. I scoured shops looking for any sort of idea as to what I should get to ease the pain today would bring. I also made another child cry asking them what they would like to do for Father’s Day and them coming to the realisation it was going to be Father’s Day without Daddy.
Clearly I had done an excellent job of shielding them from Father’s Day promotion but it was all coming unstuck as I searched for wanting to find something that was special for the kids by seeking their guidance and counsel.
By Thursday this (below) was my coping mechanism when I went to my computer and attempted to pull together all the images on it of Pete and the kids and I discovered the giant cat had walked across it with wet feet and short circuited the keyboard rendering my computer useless.
When the computer repair guy told me it was a super simple fix of just buying an external keyboard for $20 and him needing onmy 1/2 a day to disconnect the internal keyboard, I was seriously contemplating kissing him. I definitely offered him lots of money because he couldn’t possibly understand the value of him being able to fix and return my computer so quickly.
When the school held its Father’s Day stall on Friday, I took the kids out for lunch to avoid them having to be there for it. One still wanted to buy something and she now has a ‘Dad - I love you to the moon and back’ picture frame. She also made the obligatory Father’s Day craft because “he’s still my Dad and it’s Father’s Day so I need to make something for him”.
It’s hard to argue against that logic.
On Saturday I spent an hour sitting at our local Harvey Norman store with a USB stick containing 300 images of the children and their Dad.
I meticulously lightened them, and cropped them, and straightened them so they could put them into a photo album on Sunday morning ... and when I hit ‘submit order’ the spinning thinking circle came up on the screen and remained there for 15 minutes not doing anything.
Glowering at every employee who told me to ‘just give a minute or so’ as I watched the time creep ever so closely to me needing to get kids to a hockey semi final, I changed kiosks, inserted the USB, hit ‘select all’ and submitted the order and hoped for the best.
When Father’s Day arrived today the kids opened a present from me and we read through Pip’s present to Pete:
My present to them contained four new hot chocolate mugs for them so we could continue our family tradition of hot chocolates and coffee in Pete and my bed - as we did most weekends and always on birthdays and Easter and Mother’s and Father’s days.
It also contained socks and hankies - because that’s what is given on Father’s Day, right? So they have sheep socks and unicorn socks and something to cry into.
Without knowing my plans for the day, on Saturday afternoon, a friend had given each of the kids a photo album so they could make up a book of pictures their Dad.
It was a perfect gift, because then this morning our bed was covered with images of Pete and the kids and the kids filled their books.
Some of the pictures have people cut out, that are headless or completely missing the main part of the image due to a lack of due diligence aligning it all pre-printing, but it didn’t matter because there was plenty to choose from.
There were tears. And laughs. And reminiscing.
Then we went out for brunch with friends before doing insanely boring but day-filling activities like housework and locating school uniforms for the week ahead.
And then I sat down and had a drink.
Some more friends came round to check to see that we had navigated the day ok and I tried to make sure I had responded to all the people who had sent me steeling messages of support.
And so now, the kids are in bed, the uniforms are sorted and I’m sitting up with a cup of tea thinking that it was a pretty shit day but we had got through it ok, unscathed and with new albums in our house that give a pictorial representation of just how amazing their Dad was.
Happy Father’s Day, Pete. We love you x
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