A Fathers Day to forget.

I've been dreading this day all week.

Sunday, June 16th. Fathers Day.

Confession: I'm a pessimist by nature. Always have been. It's not an endearing trait and not one I'm particularly proud of so I usually try to keep those pessimistic feelings under wraps. But today, I'm having a hard time doing so.

Yes, I am blessed. Yes, I have a husband who is a wonderful father to my children. He blesses them in ways I never expected. He loves them unconditionally. He does all the things a dad should do... and more. He's patient and understanding (most of the time!) and their smiles tell me just how much they love him each night when he walks through that door. I am so incredibly lucky to have married this man and to know that my children, our children, are in loving and gentle hands.

I am also blessed to have a wonderful father in law who is our biggest cheerleader. I've never been a "words of affirmation" kind of girl and I was never used to a man telling me how proud he was of me growing up. I was also never used to a man showing me affection through simple gestures like hugs and pats on the back. My father in law is the cream of the crop when it comes to these things, constantly telling his children how much he loves them and how proud of them he is. My husband learned from the best and for that, I am forever grateful.

I desperately wish I could say that my dad was "the best dad in the world". Checking facebook this morning, with the dozens and dozens of posts from my friends about their wonderful dads, I found myself feeling terribly sad. I knew those posts were coming but I didn't expect the way they would make me feel. Don't get me wrong - I'm so happy for these people that they have been blessed with such wonderful fathers in their lives. I just wish I had been blessed in that same way.

Today, I'm feeling angry. I'm grieving the loss of the dad I wanted but never had.

And I'm even grieving the loss of the dad that I did have.

Because sometimes, even having an "okay" dad is better than having no dad at all.

You see, my dad was always a very distant man. He was there in body but never really in heart. He was a "stay at home dad" because his job was always maintaining the houses; ours and the four others he managed as rental properties. Sometimes he would get busy with projects on these houses but for the most part, he was home every day, all day. Any time you would walk into my parents house you were more likely than not to find him sitting in his chair in the living room and watching television. He didn't do much else. He was a "glass half empty" kind of guy... I guess that's where I got that trait from. He never "loved" life but rather sat on the sidelines watching everyone else enjoy theirs. It made him pretty miserable to be around at times.

But we loved him nonetheless. My mom, Brittany and I tried our best to take care of this man. We attributed his personality and behaviors to the family he grew up in.... an emotionally and physically abusive one plagued with mental health issues. We told ourselves for years that while he was never good about showing his emotions or talking about them, that they must be there deep down. We always gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Now, I can't help but wonder.

Does he really love us? Did he really love us? Or were we always just a means to an end?

He didn't want to be alone but yet he didn't know how to be a part of a family.

Now, four months and one day later, I feel like my dad has been ripped from my life. It's such a complicated loss. He's not dead but its hard to consider him alive. He's so close (14 miles away, to be exact) yet so far away. There have been times I've been close to the jail for work purposes and I'm plagued with anxiety, knowing that he's within walking distance but I can't go see him. He may as well be a million miles away because that's just how it feels. And some days, he may as well be dead because that's how it feels too.

Like on days like today. Fathers Day. When I can't even celebrate the man that he was or the man that he is. I can only mourn what I had always hoped for and what I know I'll now never have.

A dad that loves unconditionally.
A dad that is selfless instead of selfish.
A dad that would do anything to protect us from hurt.
A dad who misses us as much as we miss him.

Today, I find myself angry. For all that he's taken from us. For all that he's taken from himself.

I also know that 14 miles away, he's sitting in his jail cell and probably feeling angry about the fact that he doesn't have visitors today. That he didn't receive any cards. More than likely, he thinks that we're having a special meal and enjoying the day together when this couldn't be any further from the truth.

We all hurt too much. We're just trying to make it through one of the toughest days we've had in a while.

I wish he could see what he's done. I wish he could understand how hard this day is for us. I wish, for once, he could see beyond his own thoughts and feelings to ours.

I wish I had been blessed with a great dad. And as angry as I am for the fact that he put us into this situation, today I would even settle for my "old" dad rather than this "new" one.