Last week I was just feeling off. I didn’t go to my workout class once. All I wanted to do was eat chocolate, french fries, and curl up to escape into the fantasy saga I’m reading. It took me until Wednesday to realize it was probably in part because I was approaching our third Father’s Day without Tony.
My kids have voted to ignore the existence of Father’s Day. Even if we do see the grandparents, we don’t exchange cards or gifts. Now it’s just another Sunday in our home.
Just like last year, we found ourselves at our friends’ lake house for the weekend. It was refreshing to be outside almost all weekend. I love watching the kids play together in the lake, going tubing with them, and at the end of a long day we pile into one bedroom full of beds as we drift off in exhaustion. There is something magical when we’re all there raising our kids and cooking mounds of bacon and eggs together.
It didn’t take much arm twisting, to decide at noon on Sunday to spend one more night there. Setting us up for a relaxing afternoon with nowhere to be. Going for one more boat ride, one more swim and pizza. The weekend helped me shake the cobwebs out from the previous week.
I woke up the boys at 6am to hit the road to begin our week. It’s early for us but those extra few hours at the lake are worth it. If I can make it work, I’ll always chose Sunday nights at the lake over driving home, especially on Father’s Day. We’d rather soak in the sun than the loss of who we’re missing.
Once I got home this morning, I got a text from another widow friend that read, “Another one down.”
I replied immediately with an expletive and “Who?”
She said, “Oh no! I meant Father’s Day!” Then I’m pretty sure we both erupted into laughter. A nice dark humor snicker between widows is a good start to a week after coming off a cruddy one.
