It is my birthday on Sunday.
Sunday is Father's Day.
When I was a kid, I resented the fact that my birthday sometimes fell on Father's day, but as I got older, I cherished it. I ALWAYS saw my Dad on Father's Day. Even in the midst of 'The Missing Years' when I had barely anything to do with my family, I still went home on Father's Day. This year I want to be as far from home as possible. The furtherest the budget currently allows is Echuca, so that is where I will be, but if I had my way I'd be hiding under a rock in Morocco or Vladivostok.
I can feel myself crashing, but I don't know how to stop it. I have a wonderful husband who is trying so hard to understand, but he just... doesn't. He can't, no matter how hard he tries. It's not his fault and I don't blame him, but there is an irrational part of me that wishes he understood. I wish everyone understood, even though I know they can't, for they aren't ME and they haven't lost MY Dad.
Dad, I wish you were here to share the day with me, one more time.
Wherever you are on Sunday, from the bottom of my heart I hope you have a wonderful Father's Day, filled with peanuts and beer and love.