I’ve not spoken to my own Father for over 19 years now, so for the first time in 19 years Father’s Day holds some real meaning for me. Before today it was just a day that passed me by without even a flicker of interest, but having an 8 month old son of my own, I now get to celebrate this special day.
Due to the nature of the day in the past and now being in the position of Father on this day, it has made me give some thought to what the day actually means for me. In essence it was a day much like any other with a few perks thrown in. I awoke to a smiling boy and a beautiful gift that he literally had a hand in making.
With the gift was a big kiss from him, I was then left to sleep some more; I finally got up and read the amazing letter he had posted on his mum’s blog for me then I tucked into a big fry up. Beyond that it was a relatively normal Sunday. We spent some time as a family – we took our little man to the park, pushed him on the swings and paid a visit to the ducks. Back home we enjoyed a nice meal and as I am writing this he is getting his last feed from his mum before he goes to bed.
So again what does Father’s Day actually mean?
Well on reflection it’s quite simple. It means I am the luckiest man alive. I am privileged to have the most amazing and beautiful little boy in the world; it his him that enables me to be a Father on this day. I genuinely feel blessed to be a Father so this day is as much a celebration of being just that as it is about a gift, food or extra time in bed. Whilst they are all very nice things, that kiss I got this morning, the grin on his face while he was pushed on the swing, the cheeky look of defiance as he threw his food on the floor and watching him cruise around the furniture were the things that truly made my first Father’s day as special as it could be.