So, this Sunday (the 19th), in the UK, it's Father's Day.
I've always had a particularly uncomfortable relationship with this day. You see, my father was a cunt. The last time I saw him - when I was 16 years old - he was still a cunt. He died a cunt, too.
So, when I was young and all my schoolfriends would buy cards and presents for their fathers, I always felt mildly embarassed, and sometimes it even turned into a sensation of genuine discomfort. At best, I'd ignore Father's Day; at worst, I'd hate everyone who got to celebrate it while I was forced to pretend that it didn't bother me.
But now, all these years later, I love Father's Day. I have my own son. I'm not a cunt. My son loves me and I love him in return - so much, in fact, that I can almost understand what being a proper Dad means, and even lose, for the briefest of moments, my own lifelong bitterness at never having one.
Happy Father's Day.
EVERYDAY MONSTERS
6 comments:
Powerful stuff, Gary - at least Charlie has a Dad he can be proud of and have fun with!
Fun? There'll be none of that in my house. ;-)
Ha! Didn't see that second paragraph coming.
My father left the day before my 3rd birthday and said he'd see me the next day. Now that's serious cuntness. :D
Great post.
Bollocks. Forgot to buy my dad a card. I do this every year. It's his birthday in early June and I have enough trouble remembering that.
Short and powerful blog post, Gary. Hope you have a lovely weekend.
Brutal and honest. Good on you.
Enjoy tomorrow.
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