Father’s Day.

It’s been a mixed bag of emotions ever since my Dad died five years ago.

On the one hand, I am so elated to be a father, and totally bask in the best wishes, attention from, and time spent with my own sweet kids, Kelly and my boy Ben, above.

But there’s always that time in the day, it kinda creeps up on me every year, where I start thinking of John Houk, my Dad, and realize I can’t call him to wish him a happy father’s day myself, that I won’t hear that wonderful voice on the other end of the line, that he’s just not here.

So what do I do? I get out the pictures.

Part of me knows it will be so hard to look at the face of this man I loved so deeply, so entirely, the man who made my childhood chock full of unconditional love and support and friendship, and know he’s gone. Sure I’ll get that inevitable lump in the throat, those misty eyes, recounting the countless times he made me feel so special. It ain’t easy.

But it also brings me back closer to him, it helps me to remember all of those treasured times we spent together that were always filled with happiness and wonder: the hours of talking in our old barn on Millstone Road next to a roaring fire; driving up to Ridgefield on Sunday morning to get the paper and a Slim Jim, pretending we were Batman and Robin in the Batmobile; walking on the beach in Nantucket holding his hand; seeing him sitting in the bleachers smiling when I was on the mound trying to hold a 2-1 lead in the 7th inning, and on and on and on. There are so many wonderful memories they wash over me like a waterfall and make me smile.

The memories I have of my father are so completely positive that even though my heart still aches that he is not alive, those photographs – the polaroids, the color prints, the black and white shots, whatever – bring him back to life on a day where I might need him the most.

So if you are in a similar scenario as me, or even if your Dad is far away and you can’t visit with him in person, break out the albums and let the beautiful memories wash over you. I guarantee, through the tears you may shed or that lump, you will feel his presence…and smile.

Happy Father’s Day.


4 Responses to “FATHER’S DAY”

  1. Thanks, for the suggestion to read your blog. Good advice.
    Happy Father’s Day to you.

  2. midliferocker Says:

    It’s all about keeping the good memories alive. The pain will never go away. That’s just the way it is. Best to you, Amy.

  3. Great stuff Stevo, very well, done. I did get chills reading this, as you know my Dad was a huge part of my upbringing as well, and now I know how he felt watching us grow and prosper. A good example of the “Circle of Life”.

  4. Great post, Steve. I’m lucky I got to spend Father’s Day with my Dad and kids at Nats Park, but know that it won’t always be that way. Happy belated Dad’s day.

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