Today it’s Father’s day in most places around the world (or at least it is in Europe). A day to celebrate our dads, buy them silly presents they don’t need, visit them, and basically show them we love them.
At least, that is what it means to most people. There are also plenty of people, like me, who won’t be taking part in the event.
Instead, I sit here at home and try to think of the last time I spoke to my dad. I try to remember, but I just cannot recall exactly when it was. What I do remember, is what we talked about.
I told him, well, I told him many things. What I did not say to him, was that me telling him this stuff meant I had had enough. I was done.
Not a decision that I had taken lightly. We are talking years of carrying the burden of having to take care of someone, who should be taking care of himself.
My dad is the sweetest, kindest man I have ever met. A good and decent man, who just never learned how to live independently as an adult.
I hope things will change. I would like nothing more than to write about Father’s day next year describing the silly presents I gave him when I went to visit.
I miss you dad.