This is a different Father’s Day. In years past, Father’s Day meant cut-out, hand-made cards, breakfast in bed and long morning hugs from my three children. This year is different. My kids have outgrown the handmade card artistry, I am awake long before they are wiping the sleep from their eyes, and the hugs will be a few less.
As I write this, I can’t embrace what I’m feeling. (Frankly, I can barely put two sentences together). Like in a dance, the sense of loss and joy are twirling about the stage. I literally hurt, wanting to see my little Makenzie again and hear her shout “Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!” like she had done every year since she could talk. I am so grateful that she gave me, and only me, those words.
I am so happy that God allows me the daily priveledge of seeing Nathan grow into an incredible man. I am truly honored that God would give me an incredibly fun young girl in Maddie. Any dad would call himself blessed to have these two.
This is a different Father’s Day. I won’t get the kisses from Makenzie. I wont see her loving smile as she jumps on me to wake me from my sleep. And most of you have no idea how desparately I want one more squeeze from her. But I am reasurred knowing that Makenzie is in the arms of her real daddy. (BTW — If God slept, she’d be planning to pounce on Him even as I write this).
Dad’s — hug your kids extra tight today. I won’t get to hug Makenzie again for a long time.