It's Father's Day ... which leaves me a bit confused ... but I suppose I ought to have something to say about that.
My wife gave me a couple of nice chocolate bars and a card which said inside: "You are loved a lot!" The sentiment bowled me over, but it was part of the confusion. What for?
If anything, I have always felt pretty second-rate as a father ... although I admit I'm not exactly sure what a first-rate father might be ... just not me, I guess. I wish I had been better, but it's too late now. Wish I had done more, given more ... something better.
Based on my kids, whom I like as well as love, it was my wife who did the miraculous heavy lifting, so today, for me, is more a Mother's Day than a Father's Day. What a ballbuster! And she did it. I'm in the mix somewhere, but where, precisely, I'm not sure in ways I imagine a "better father" might be.
And I'm aware of my knee-jerk up-bringing that suggests 'measuring up' is not in the cards. It's neurotic crap, but it's the neurotic crap I'm stuck with. Now and then, I can out-smile it these days, but the low hum is there, making me wonder what in the world Father's Day might be or mean.
Someone knows, I imagine. It just doesn't happen to be me.