Happy After Father's Day
My dad told me that the only tattoo he'd ever get would be of plankton and it'd be on his leg. I dedicate this picture and post to you Daddy.
This morning, my mind abruptly floated to thoughts of Father’s Day. I didn’t text my daddy Happy Father’s Day. I didn’t buy him a card, didn’t sew a sweater, I didn’t take him anywhere sportsy and cool. I actually didn’t talk to his ass all day. My mom asked me, "What if Father’s day is your last 24 hours?" I been thinking about that question sense I heard it on the voice mail she left Saturday night. Growing up my dad told me that most holidays don’t really mean shit. Now those aren’t his exact words, my dad is more of the “Every Day You Should Be Thankful Not Just on Thanksgiving” type. And I agree with that statement. Just because it’s Father’s day I don’t have to pretend for the world that I’m happy. Just because it’s father’s day I don’t have to thank you for trivial and tremendous things you’ve done and been for me. Just because its Father’s day I don’t have to force a hug and a kiss or even my presence. You’re not only my Father on Father’s Day. I’ve been thinking about what Father’s Day even fucking means. We don’t need one day to help us feel better about not appreciating the people around us. We don’t need one day to sulk in our right doings and forget about all our wrongs. Everyday should have a “thank you” and if needed an, “I apologize” too. We should do right or at least try to every moment. And when we fuck up we should make amends. I don’t agree with excusing duties just because of a holiday. I don’t get a vacation from being your daughter. I don’t get to not have scars for a day. Even though I look just like her I am still your baby. And even though you tend to fuck up, I love you every day forever. My mom asked me “What if Father’s Day was your last 24 Hours?” The answer to that question actually doesn’t fucking matter. Happy After Father’s Day to the part of my Dad who deserves it and a big I love you to any other part.
