We went over to YP’s this morning to celebrate Father’s Day with eggs benedict. You helped ladle the hollandaise. I remember when I was a teenager and my dad started attempting to cook more. (He didn’t get decent at it until I was in college.) I have a vivid memory of him going on and on about how much he loved hollandiase sauce and one day he made some--it had to have been from scratch because he made such a big deal about it. I tasted it and I didn’t understand what he liked so much about it, but I liked seeing him all worked up over it. It’s a strange thing to want to like something simply because your dad likes it. All my life I tried to like the things he liked, no matter what it was. My desire to try and bond with my dad never fully faded, but some time after his stroke, I realized that even when the stars aligned and we got to have a mutual appreciation for things in the same space at the same time, it wouldn’t satisfy me like I thought. That disappointed me, but also provided me with a sense of relief because I had the freedom to move on after that. His brain wasn’t always firing on all cylinders around that time, so I felt like my shot at really forging the kind of adult friendship I wanted with my dad had passed. My dad wasn’t the dad I needed anymore.
I carry a void inside me that is all the things I thought I’d be able to bond with my dad over that we never had. Don’t get me wrong, I loved him, and we bonded over some things, but not in the way I would’ve liked as an adult. And probably not how he would’ve liked. It’s not his fault, and I understand that. But I assume that void will always be a driving force in my commitment to keeping you close to me, no matter where you are in the world, and no matter what interests you. I’ll always be here, and I’ll always be so proud to be your dad.
North Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.21.2020 - 9.23am.