Happy Father’s Day to all of the amazing, participating dads out there, the male role models that step in willingly and the solo single moms, like me, on double duty. So, another Father’s Day is here. My son gave me a kiss, a card and some chocolate. “Happy Father’s Day, Mommy,” he said. “Let’s make grilled cheese!” (Sort of a Father’s Day breakfast tradition for us). As I handed him a slice of cheese and watched him carefully place the yellow square on a piece of bread I found my mind wondering. Was his father doing the same in Indiana with his son? Was his father thinking about him? Are we just elephants in the room? The sandwich sizzled. After JD ate, he sat at his little art table and drew a picture for my dad, who we will see later on at dinner. I plopped on the couch with my Macbook and read Obama’s Father’s Day address.
“Every father bears a fundamental obligation to do right by their children,” Obama said. It should be that simple and Obama knows this sentiment, as he was raised by his single mom and grandparents. The word father rang out in my head. What is a father, really? I googled. I’m a gal that likes an answer. Point blank. I like a solid black and white conclusion even though life is many, many shades of grey. So, the dictionary says a father is…
a. A male person whose sperm unites with an egg, resulting in conception of a child. b. A man who adopts a child. c. A man who raises a child.
JD’s father is a. He is a male (was my boyfriend) whose sperm united with my egg, resulting in the conception of our child. Seeing this definition made it clear father and dad are two very different words.
What is a dad? A dad is present.
Thanks to my dad, Carlo and Brian. Thanks to my guy friends and friends’ hubbies. You all rule.
Thanks to JD’s father for the sperm. I mean that sincerely. You gave me something so wonderful.
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