I love my husband. My father isn’t in my life. We all know this. Or maybe we don’t. I don’t really talk about it much. It doesn’t really bother me as much as you might think. I don’t know what that says about me? Maybe it’s because my life is so full of love? Maybe because I recognize that his absence has everything to do with him and nothing to do with me. Maybe it’s because I’ve been blessed with a loving family and I can see how it is supposed to feel – the unconditional part of love. The unselfish part of love. The pure part of love. Maybe?
Either way, Father’s Day is all about my husband. And thank God for that. He is a wonderful father. I’d argue to say that he is the better parent. Sometimes, I can’t handle the chaos and he does so with ease. He makes me a better mom. He keeps this family in balance. I am so blessed to have him. And you know – a lot of people say the word “blessed” and they don’t really mean it. They say “blessed” and I almost feel like they are trying to convince themselves of something. It never actually feels authentic to me. Is that mean to write? But I actually mean it. I’m not someone that throws that word around like confetti. It’s special. It comes with weight. I truly mean it when I say that I am blessed in my adult life – to have met this man and to have created these children. I. Am. Blessed.
Yesterday was simple. We ate at his parents’ house. We watched movies. We laughed. We ate some more. Today will probably be the same kind of formula – but at home. I should only hope for a lifetime of repetition. As long as this man is by my side, nothing will stand in our way.