Red

Pop,

Sorry to say, but my signature won’t be on the annual Father’s Day card this year.

Mainly because I’m 2,000 miles away and airfare is topping $400. I love you. But not dish-out-$400-love-you. At least not yet. I’ll get there. Though you do routinely say, “It costs me at least $500 just to get out of bed everyday.” So… do I really want to get there?

I digress.

But yep. No last minute trip to Walgreen’s this year. No secretly rendezvousing in the back room, scribbling down, “You’re the best dad ever! I love you! Thank you for everything you do!” until the pen runs out of ink, leaving half-smudged indentations.

Sure, I could mail you a card. But where’s the fun in that? I just really wanted a reason to put my fancy words to use. Plus I can’t find my stamps!

So, it’s just me and my trusty delete button here. Don’t worry. I’ll make this sound good.

Did you know, back when I was a wee tyke, I shat in a man’s hand? Fresh dollop, right in his palm. The man had no choice. He rode it out as any good father would.

Did you know on Christmas Eve this man sprinkled cookie crumbs in front of my bedroom door while I slept? I woke up Christmas day and saw that Santa had visited.

Did you know this man introduced me to one of the best sports in the world? A sport I deeply loved for years and still do. I was no Tony Hawk, but I was pretty damn good. I think he’d agree.

Every fall season from when I was nine to thirteen, he became Coach. A great one at that.

Growing up, he and I traveled the country every spring break. Road trips. Skatepark tours. Camping trips. Rain or shine. And unpredictable bucket list experiences in between.

Did you know I shouted at the top of my lungs my first cuss word with this man?

When I was eleven, this same man helped me allegedly break into school to retrieve forgotten homework.

During a four-year Harry Potter obsession stint, he indulged my belief that I possessed magical powers.

This man was my shoulder to cry on while I navigated the turbulent world that is high school, and college, for that matter.

This man once chased me around a Top Golf because I had purpled nurpled him too hard. His nipples had, in fact, become purple.

Time and time again, he has hammered into my head every life lesson imaginable. Even when I was stubborn and wouldn’t listen, he never stopped hammering.

He has listened to my trivial gibberish. My what-ifs. My what-do-I-dos.

He has gotten me to a place in my life where I’m able to ask those questions less and less. But if I need him, all I have to do is turn around, because I know he’ll be there.

This man has loved me without judgment. He has guided me through the deserts of life, and to this day ensures I reach the other side safely.

I leave this man with words from another man we both love…

“Son… You don’t have bad luck. The reason that bad things happen to you… is because you’re a dumbass.”

I love you, Dad.

Happy Father’s Day.