Father's Day

This is my first Father’s Day following the loss of Gavin. When we started Gavin’s Hugs and this website I wanted it to be many things, including a resource for others who experience loss. The truth is I’m still not quite sure how to do that; I’ve no formal training with grief or emotional therapy. Heck, I’m not even very empathetic, but it occurs to me that maybe that’s the opportunity; we're just regular people who were thrust into this terrible situation. Maybe that’s one way we can help others. Share insight into the journey in a way regular people can relate.

As it relates to Father’s Day, my take so far has been that it doesn’t take a special day to remind you that you’ve lost a child. It’s one of the first things you think of when you wake up, and one of the last things you think of when you go to bed. On any day. Every day. So far for me my “special days” like my birthday and Father’s Day haven’t been any more or less difficult. The ones that have been especially difficult are Gav’s special days. Christmas, his birthday, the school field trip to a theme park, the last day of school. These days are reminders that Gavin is missing something here on earth; things that he would have really enjoyed. Things he should have been part of. Those are painful days.

I will say I very much missed receiving a Father’s Day card from Gavin. As my mom wrote about in her journal entry, Gav gave wonderful greeting cards. He took his time and always wrote thoughtful and funny messages.

I am blessed to have an amazing father who at 83 is still healthy, witty, funny, fun to talk with and very much a part my life. I still call him with for advice on many things. Conor once told me he knows his Pop loves him, he doesn’t even have to say it (although he does). That’s a special memory for me. I’m also blessed to still have my mom who misses our Gavin terribly and is always a shoulder to cry on. She makes every visit special for Conor, Rachel and me.

I had lots of other good fatherly and parental role models growing up in our neighborhood, and in my parent's friends. Our neighborhood was a special place. All of us kids, even as middle-aged adults still look back on it very fondly.

Rachel’s mom was also a wonderful role model in many ways. She had to do double duty as a single parent, and she did it admirably. She was one of the wisest people I’ve ever known.

As an adult I’ve been blessed to know lots of great fathers as friends, work partners and clients. We’ve had a lot of fun with the other parents of kids in Conor and Gavin’s classes at Annunciation Catholic Academy over the years, and they have been a tremendous community of support since Gav passed.

One of a billion things I’ve thought a lot about since losing Gav is how did I do as his dad? Was I everything he needed me to be? I’ve realized I’m blessed to say I have only a few regrets. I wish I was “there” even more than I was. I was there for nearly every school function, sporting event or special occasion. I drove the kids to school nearly every morning and dropped them off on the way to work. I started many days at morning prayer at Annunciation. It was a lovely way to start the day. However, occasionally work or a decision about the importance of a chore or task distracted me. I was mostly calm and reasonable as a dad when the kids were young, but in hindsight was impatient or grumpy more than I wish I had been. I think I’m pretty lucky to have such a short list of things I wish I’d done different. We’re carrying a nearly unbearable weight as it is. Regret would be a terrible addition.

I stumble on words sometimes when describing my current relationship with Gavin (I realize I did it a few paragraphs ago). Do I have two boys or did I have two boys? Am I Gavin's father or was I Gavin's father? I have decided I AM, and always will be Gavin's father. This is so self-obvious it's embarrassing to slip on it. In a healthy family a parent’s love for their children is unconditional. It's one of the strongest bonds in life, along with that of your spouse and parents, but maybe more so. My and Rachel's bond with Gavin and Conor is unbreakable. It transcends pain, physical separation and even death. I am Gavin's father. I have two sons.

One of my best friends Bill Weinaug came and sat with me one evening a few days after Gavin passed. We talked on my back porch for hours. We cried together, he listened and tried to give me advice and encouragement. I believe I will always remember something he said; it brings tears to my eyes every time I think about it. He said you’ve got to keep trying. He said think of Gavin standing next to Jesus looking down at you

trying to do good things, trying to be strong, trying to make the next best decision. Trying to support Rachel and Conor. Trying to be a beacon of hope in a storm. He says Gavin is there pointing me out to Jesus saying "Do You see him? That's my dad!". It touches me deeply and inspires me every time I think about it.

We often think of children making their parents proud. This made me realize I want to be the dad who makes his kids proud. I think we all want that, but being a parent is a really tough job. Knowing how much or little to push, how much or little to let go, and a million other judgement calls.

Keep trying; it’s all we can do. If you screwed something up, own it, apologize, try harder or try something different. I’m determined to keep trying; I’m determined to die trying. And when I do, if I try hard enough and do a good job, Gav will be there waiting for me.

Happy Father’s Day. Keep trying.