Dear Husband:
To a man who doesn’t really go for public displays of affection or airing his dirty laundry, I thought — what better gift for Father’s Day than to write you a public letter of thanks?
You’ve been through a humdinger of a year on so many levels, and the man that is being refined in 2018’s fire is emerging gold (albeit slightly tarnished). Your every waking moment is spent finding ways to connect with your family — especially your children. You even sacrifice your precious free time to get involved in what they love. Aside from the hours you’ve spent going to practices and games over the years, you take an interest in their interests and stay up-to-date with their technology. I know this is partly to keep them safe and partly to stay connected with them. But, honey? They stopped playing Clash of Clans about two years ago. You can just go ahead and be excited about reaching Town Hall Level 10 for you. I think you deserve it.
Another thing you need to do for you is to give yourself some grace. Since we have been married, I have heard you say at least once a week that you need to hit the gym and “get back in shape.” I am totally in support of you being healthy and staying active. However, I think you should just go ahead and embrace your dad-bod. It may not have birthed a baby like my voluptuous mom-bod, but it still comes in a close second and should be celebrated.
A letter of homage to you wouldn’t be complete without me saying thank you for not taking offense when I passively-aggressively round up your used napkins, dirty cups, etc. into a trash-bag and place it lovingly on your pillow. I know these circumstances are few and far between, but you respond with more grace than I’d have imagined. For that, I thank you.
See, you hear all the complaints from everyone. In fact, I think that’s all you can hear these days. But what you don’t hear is that I see your dedication to your family. I see you love, honor and serve your own father in ever-changing ways and, subsequently, teach your kids what it means to do the same. You do this by sitting patiently at hospital bedsides, showing compassion and just the right amount of humor as you support a father who is uncertain of his own future. When the hospital visits are done, you commute 30 minutes each way, sometimes twice a day to help your parents with their new normal, even while ensuring that they keep their independence and dignity. You can’t force respect, love, or an attitude of service on your children, but you can model for them what those qualities look like. And I see that you have done that.
I see that you drive across town at 10:30 at night to comfort your daughter in a time she desperately needed her Daddy. And I see you return home, heavy-hearted and wishing you could take the weight of the world off of her shoulders.
I see you spending hours playing knee hockey (with much sweating and complaining about the gym again) with your son, or patiently teaching him how to drive an RC car. You even willingly pass down to him your treasured baseball card collection and matchbox cars, knowing he’ll lose them in about ten minutes.
I see you rushing straight home from work to spend as much time as possible with your youngest daughter before she has to go to bed.
I see you struggling to make decisions about how best to spend your time to make everyone happy. And you try to do that with a smile on your face, despite being pulled in five different directions.
Even as you give everything you have to provide for your family, I see you trying to teach your kids to take the path that isn’t as glamorous or filled with endless fun. And sometimes I see the weariness etched in your face, wondering, is it all worth it?
You think maybe you’re alone in these struggles – that other dads don’t have situations like yours and don’t have to work as hard as you do. But we all have struggles and crosses to bear. Some dads take the easy way out. Some give up altogether. But you-you are trying to teach your kids to live a life of goodness. And that takes time with a payoff you can’t see until much later.
So, keep fighting the good fight. Keep taking the high road. Keep being the dad they need, even if it’s the uncool dad.
It is so worth it.
