Usually on Father's Day, I force my kids to play golf with me, or in Jesse's case, since he refuses to ever play golf again, he caddies for me. Everyone groaned about the forced indignity, but I'm under the illusion we generally had a good time.
This year, I will be celebrating Father's Day by attending my daughter Grace's wedding. It's not the same as playing golf, but I suspect it will be OK. They're going to let me speak at the ceremony (highly irregular!) as long as I don't give too much advice, and I think I can do that.
So my dad, who passed away in '95, will not be there for the wedding, and I'm sure there will be bittersweet moments, as these types of events are prone to provide. This brings me to a dream I had recently of my father, and I'd like to share it, even if I don't quite understand it.
About a week or so ago, I was napping post-breakfast (one of my totally favorite things!) and was having some sort of vivid cinematic dream. At one point, I realized that the man next to me, who I think was wearing a plaid shirt and who I don't remember talking to, was my father. As the awareness came to me that I was dreaming and wanting to savor the moment, I tried to speak to him, but he quickly receded into the distance, down to a small stick figure. As I watched him disappear into the far away hills, even this much contact evaporated, as I was pulled back into consciousness, unwillingly.
Perhaps this is a very normal dream, maybe about not realizing what you have until it's gone. I'll leave the analysis to the professionals, but I do treasure moments like this, even if they don't really 'exist' in our so-called real world.