Annual Father’s Day Guilt


By Cherimie Crane


In conjunction with pending nuptials, pending contracts, and pending sanity, I have annual Father’s Day guilt. It is a bit different than that dainty teaspoon of guilt mom is highly skilled at mixing into morning coffee. It is more of a self-inflicted blanket of guilt that I find myself snuggled under every single Father’s Day.  Actually, it consistently occurs the several days after the often under-celebrated holiday.

My preparations for Mother’s Day are nothing short of strategically planned, intricately placed notions of gratitude. It could be argued that this orchestra of pleasantries is an all-out attack to ward off the insurmountable evils of a mother forgotten. Of course, that is not my motivation (disclaimer, disclaimer!).

Just as he always forgave the misspelled “Dad of The Ear” coffee mug, the homemade mud pie Father’s day breakfast, and the coveted collect call to wish him well, Daddy still manages to overlook my Father’s Day missives. My intentions are honorable, just not overly prompt. Truth is, there isn’t really a card that can come close, a grill that measures up, a call that lasts long enough, or a mug that can capture the essence of my immeasurable love for the man who fixed my teeth with braces, repaired my bike chain 897 times a day, told me it was OK to play in the dirt and spent my teenage years standing his ground so that my feet would remain firmly on mine.

Words are easy for me, both spoken and written. They flow with unbridled enthusiasm and often-unsuccessful restraint; yet, when it comes to the man who has held my hand and my heart for my entire life, no one article, no one chapter, and no one call will ever be enough. He has been my biggest supporter, my best friend, even my worst enemy, but always my Father.

Sorry I am a little late with my Father’s Day article. I do know that perched quietly on the porch of a small house in backwoods Mississippi, the strongest hands I’ve ever known are holding this newspaper for the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen to read a simple attempt at saying I love you, no matter what day it is. Thank you, Daddy.


Previous Story

Little Bits of Royal Chatter

Next Story

BowWOW! Facts, observations and musings about Our Best Friends

Latest from Cherimie Crane