Father’s Day to me consists of equal parts grief & awkward, with a dash of melancholy. It has become a rare Sunday when I’d like to fast-forward to Monday, and Facebook makes it worse. I think I’ll just stay offline until next week, because of all the #1 Daddy, deceased dads, gag-me-with-a-spoon-fabulous husbands, moms-who-were-father-figures, etc. It’s too much for my emotional capacity right now.
No, I didn’t change my profile picture to my dad like many people (though not as many as changed their profile pics on Mother’s Day, interestingly enough) … not because I don’t love him, but because 1) he isn’t even on Facebook, and 2) since my stepdad actually is on Facebook, and I think he is awesome, it would be awkward. They are both important father-figures in my life (and the lives of my kiddos), but in different ways.
All of the “Happy Father’s Day in Heaven” posts dredge up melancholy feelings about my brother, so yeah, thanks for that, Facebook.
Then, of course, there’s the mushy-gushy, kissy-kissy “You’re the best husband and father the world has ever seen!” posts. Ugh. Spare me. Am I happy that your husband is suuuper dreamy and you love him to pieces? Of course I am. But in the words of Miracle Max: “Thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. While you’re at it, why don’t you give me a nice paper cut & pour lemon juice on it?”