Father's Day is one of those holidays I've never seen a point in celebrating. My earliest memory of Father's Day is in second grade, when I presented my mother, a struggling single parent, with a card that said "Happy Father's Day to the best dad I know" - a wry twist of humor that sends a pang to my stomach even now. At that point, my biological father had been absent for a little over three years. He'd abandoned his children in favor of a life and another child with someone he'd been seeing at the same time as my mother. A couple years after that, he ended up in prison for a violent crime, and that's where he was when I gave that homemade card to my mother. The following years saw him re-enter prison shortly after he was released, and saw me with a new stepfather who didn't do much to earn the title of father, apart from being a male presence in our home.
Growing up without a strong male role model was tough. I had grandfathers I loved dearly, but didn't really feel particularly close to them. Male teachers were few and far between, but those I did have, I had a great respect for and did my best to impress them with my academics. Kind as those teachers were, the space left by the absence of a decent father never has been filled.
Thankfully, I had the good sense to marry a kind, family-oriented man who is extremely involved in our childrens' lives. The knowledge that my children are growing up with a fantastic role model who obviously loves and cares for them gives me a bit of peace about my own fragmented upbringing. I can deal with the aftermath of failed fathers knowing they'll never have to. And that, my friends, is a happy ending.
