Fathers Day

This Fathers Day my husband requested I not make a fuss on Face Book about anything around it in our home. There's too much sharing on social media these days for our comfort and though I blog about all things personal, even I'm developing a bit of a privacy reflex when it comes to the crowded world of FB.

So I complied pretty happily, feeling as conflicted as I do about these occasions. For as many people as the annual Hallmark celebrations touch, are those it leaves sadder by throwing their losses into stark relief. Not to mention how over-simplistic it is to reduce a parents role to one day, a card and some canned gestures.

But I'm glad for all the dads who enjoy feeling celebrated as I'm glad for those who would rather pass on it. For dads who would like to be celebrated and for whatever reason, haven't that privilege - my thoughts and sympathies.

Thinking of that last group, I repeated my collaboration with our city's 'meals on wheels' program that delivers daily meals to frail, senior citizens who can not easily leave their homes or cook nutritious meals for themselves. On Mothers Day, they slipped cards I made into meals destined for old single women. This Friday, they did the same for 30 fathers.

I've yet to hear from them, to see if as many men called in their delighted thanks as women did after Mothers Day. But it doesn't really matter. I felt a bit better about at least a few unsung fathers. I also felt redeemed after the awful week I had at work. It was somehow cathartic that in retribution for the hurt and unfairness encountered, I gave back some caring. I got my own back at a world that caused me pain - by spreading a little pleasure, even if it was indeterminate and not quantifiable. Some of the things that matter the most, are.

Because really, what else is there to do?