Yesterday, in some parts of the world, it was Father’s Day. My entire Facebook and Instagram feeds were flooded with messages and photographs, mostly of daughters posting about their fathers. Wishes, joy, and love abounded. It was lovely. It was also gut-wrenching.
I managed to stay calm throughout the day, reacting appropriately to posts and any jokes that came my way. Of course, the reminder that my father wasn’t around was omnipresent, but it didn’t overwhelm me. None of my friends or acquaintances was out to hurt me with these reminders of Father’s Day, and I kept that thought firmly fixed in my mind as I reacted to them.
Finally, I thought I was past the danger zone of having a breakdown when today dawned. But naturally, the universe wasn’t as obliging as all that. Because I came across this Bored Panda article.
Not going to lie, tears welled up, as I scrolled through the photographs. The emotions writ so large on each father’s face as he first beheld his daughter in a wedding dress. It was magical. And I am still fighting back tears as I write this.
When we lost my father in 2016, I told my mother that I couldn’t conceive of having any milestones without him: my wedding, my first child, perhaps some more children, my first home, etc. He wouldn’t meet my husband, and my husband in turn wouldn’t have met this all-important figure of my life. My children wouldn’t know their grandfather. It was all too raw and impossible to grapple with in that time of grief.
Over the months hence, I have accepted many of the changes that comes with losing a loved one. There were many moments where I have stopped for a fragment of a moment and smiled at what I imagine would have been my father’s reaction, if he had been around. The moments are always sweet and filled with love, but tinged with undeniable loss and sadness too.
I can imagine my father’s face if had seen me in my wedding outfit. He wouldn’t have cried, no, but looked at me fully with those great big hazel eyes, filled with emotion. He wouldn’t have said that I looked beautiful to me, but turned around to my mother [who WOULD be crying or exasperated with me] and said that I looked amazing. He would have stepped forward and hugged me, and told me that he wouldn’t give me to anyone and my waiting husband-to-be could go take a hike. [It sounds better in Hindi.] And we would have laughed a little because that was our equation. Oh, he would have also said something about how lucky I was to “have his face” too.
Even though I feel sadness that I will never get to experience this scene in reality, I count myself fortunate that I knew him well enough to play it out in my mind. I feel fortunate to think I had a father that loved me so much that when he saw me, even as an adult, he saw a curly-haired 5 year-old instead. I feel fortunate that, being a daughter, I had a relationship with him that I would never had if I had been born a boy. [Yes, he was really not cut out to be a father to boys. Awful critter. smh.]
Happy Father’s Day to all the wonderful fathers in the world. Wherever they may be.