Trigger Warning…
Oh Father’s Day.
The hardest day of the year.
A day that celebrates dad’s, grandads, father figures. While I organise and sort the gifts for my husband and grandads from my children, it always dawns on me that I’ll never write a Father’s Day message to my dad again. He’s alive but I’m still grieving the loss of a father.
My children write messages, draw pictures, create cards and the words that they write, they mean.
The words I wrote to my dad were never meant. It was an automatic reaction to Father’s Day. The best dad ever? The best father I could ever wish for?
How could I mean any of that when the person that was ment to protect me was the person that was hurting me. He never was a dad. He never will be one. It’s just a shadow of a father that I should of had.
And now I never buy him cards or send a message. He’s still here to celebrate but doesn’t deserve the messages, the cards, the gifts.
What is it like to grieve someone that is still here?
Ask someone that was abused as a child by a parent.
They will know.
The Coastal Mummy 