I am a man without direction today. Father’s Day, the holiday we set aside to thank those who have taught us how to drive a car, check the oil, stand up for ourselves, and love the women in our lives… and for me, it simply a day I want to be over.
I have a son. He’s two years old. But today, he and my wife are on a trip to visit family and friends. I am happy for them. Most of the people who live up there have not seen my son, so it’s good that they went. But they are not here. I can’t hold him… kiss him… watch the US Open with him… I simply want the day to be over.
I had a father. He was 64. February 3 I received a call that he passed away. It was sudden, quick and still hurts. Today is not only Father’s Day, it is the final round of golf’s second major of the year, the US Open. My father loved golf. He taught me and my brother to play the game. I am decent, but don’t practice; my brother was a teaching pro who still is a scratch golfer. Every major tournament, as it came down to the back nine, when stress levels rose for the players and excitement built in my heart, I called my dad. His voice was also a little higher, a little more animated. He loved the game. We would dissect what was happening. As the tournament ended, I’d call for our own wrap-up show. It was better than anything you’d see on TV because it included talk about my son, my wife, and life in general.
But he is not here. I can’t hug him… shake his hand… listen to his laugh… watch the final round of the US Open with him… get excited as the holes ticked down…
I simply want the day to be over.
Happy Father’s Day.