I've never liked Father's Day, in large part because I never liked my father (alcohol/God). It didn't help being raised an Orthodox Jew: my Father in Heaven was as bad as my father on Earth. Neither father, biological nor mythological, was happy.
I am at home, running a house and being the lead parent. I am doing something that my grandfather and great grandfather would probably never have dreamed of. But I would like to think they would approve of my choice and see how it grew out of the decisions they, and my own father, made before me.
My abiding hope as a father has always been to provide my children with a happy and interesting childhood -- which won't prove too alarming for their future therapists -- and which leaves them with the ability to think and act for themselves as adults, with large capacities equally for joy, compassion, and laughter at themselves.
Bite your tongue, grit your teeth, put your personal feelings aside and let your children spend time with their father. Your children will ultimately thank you for it. While your children are gone I grant you permission to sit down and relax.
Just in time for Father's Day (which also happens to fall right in the middle of wedding season), here are a few ideas for honoring Dad on your wedding day.
I held his hand as we laughed and reminisced and he told me his decision not to go on a ventilator. He'd said his goodbyes and he was at peace. I was still holding his hand when the beeping interrupted my dozing. And he was gone ... just like that.
Every kid growing up in a South Asian household knows there is a certain four-letter word you shan't utter. No, it's not the f-word, and no it doesn't rhyme with hit. It's the l-word: love.
Myself and others that I work with, now as well as in the past, are feminists. And feminism, in its simplest of definitions, is a belief in and practice of equality.
Day jobs notwithstanding, we both dove into hands-on parenting from the start. But as I met other people with infants, I discovered that this was not universal.
The hospice nurse sat with us, periodically taking vitals and recording information in a chart on her computer. We didn't talk much. I'm a novelist, a journalist, a communications executive, but words had become painfully frivolous.
I believe in fathers who love their children simply because they exist, not because they've got an accomplishment, a course of study, or a profession the father feels he can brag about.
This year I'm celebrating Father's Day with an empty highchair at our dinner table. A year ago we lost our son Landon to stillbirth at 38 weeks gestation, just a few days before his due date.
It goes without saying that Father's Day is a time to celebrate the important role that a father plays in his children's lives. As a father (and, recently, a grandfather), this role has been the most rewarding experience of my life.
Last Father's Day, the dog, the fetus and I gave you a fancy schmancy vacuum cleaner (clearly strategic on our part). As pumped as you were to spend some quality time with your Dyson, you were even more excited to think how you'd spend the next Father's Day as a real, live D-A-D but I bet you didn't realize all the other things you'd become.
My dad was always the "fun parent." He was unpredictable and playful, with a tattoo on his arm and crazy ideas up his sleeve. But he was also incredibly kind, and kind of a worrywart.