At 5:30 this morning, we took to the green belt for our now daily morning walk. For ten of the last eleven mornings, Cynthia and I have gotten up early and walked. It started as a roughly 1.5 mile walk and quickly grew to 2, then 2.5 and now 3.5 miles each morning (about 7200 steps according to my smartwatch and Google Fit). Every morning until today, it felt great–energizing–like we were kicking some weight loss and a healthier lifestyle into play. Today was different…
Today was Father’s Day. Today was the day that we all celebrate the fathers in our lives–biological, adopted, philosophical, familial, friends–fathers of all kinds. This has made for a somewhat difficult day for me over the past 10 years, as my father passed away in June 2006 (and my grandfathers passed away years earlier). I still recognize and think about other “father figures” in my life–teachers, professors, other mentors, but it’s just not the same.
Father’s Day today was different. For the past 15 years, I celebrated Father’s Day as a father myself. For the first three, as a father of one, then for eleven as a father of two… And now, once again, it was as a father of one. Obviously, I’ve known this day was coming since Micah died in January, but some things you just can’t prepare for, no matter how aware of them you might be. The moment hit at approximately 6:05am this morning, as we turned around from the farthest part of our walk to come back.
The roof caved in within five minutes–and the rest of the day took on a different feel.
I don’t like thinking about Micah in the past tense. I don’t like thinking about Micah in the “What If” or “What Would He Be Doing” sense.
I miss Micah. Today, my first Father’s Day without him, was another sharp example of how much.