Megan Roantree: I never cared about Father’s Day, until my dad died

Other than that, the 13 Father’s Days I had with my dad seem pretty uneventful and dare I say, unimportant.

So it’s always struck me as ironic that it’s a day that I now spend so much time thinking about, as an adult who has no kids. When I hear colleagues or friends mention that they’re getting their dad a card from Moonpig or they’re heading around to the family home for a roast, 

I feel myself sinking into sadness. I know that I never cared about Father’s Day when my dad was alive. I’m not sure we ever even marked it (other than with the glass fish he already owned!). 

I know that if he was here, he wouldn’t care about whether I called him or not, whether he got a card, or whether we acknowledged it at all. But now, I spend weeks dreading it. 

The first mention of it usually comes from a friend who has an alive dad. They might casually say they’ll be home that weekend, “because it’s Father’s Day.” 

I’ll try to nod and act normal, as if I don’t feel a sting and a tinge of jealousy. And yet, I get annoyed at those who totally forget Father’s Day, because I feel like shouting “don’t you know how lucky you are?!” 

It feels unfair, and even silly, to have such complicated feelings about a day that was created solely for profit.

For 13 years I barely acknowledged the day, when I had a perfectly lovely, alive dad, sitting at home with me. He was likely working most Father’s Days over the years and I don’t think I ever brought him breakfast in bed or gave him a gift to acknowledge my love for him.

I remember really caring about Father’s Day in 2008 though, six months after Dad had died. I felt like Father’s Day was towering over me. Ads on TV, in papers, card stands in shops. It felt like everything was shouting at me about how there was a day to mark the person you love, and you can’t now! I felt sad, and ashamed and guilty. I was 13, and I bought a card. I decided to pick one up in town rather than the local shop, worried that someone would see it and think, “hang on, isn’t her dad very much dead?” 

I kept the plastic wrapping that the card comes in. I wrote a message to my dad about how much I loved and missed him, and I left it on his grave, naively thinking the plastic film would preserve it. Most years after that, I did the same thing. Always making sure to mark it. Since living away from home, I think it’s probably gotten harder. I feel so disconnected from that card and that grave that I find myself really struggling with the day — the same day I never even cared about while he was alive. It feels cruel.

Since I lost dad, I’ve felt the urge to mark it as much as I possibly could. I don’t even click the well-meaning ‘opt-out’ on emails leading up to Father’s Day.

I like to get them because it makes me feel like I’m marking the day. I can almost pretend my dad is alive and I’ll have a browse at the ties or bottles of whiskey I might buy him. Ever since he died, I’ve marked it more than ever. It’s like grappling with the idea of what could have been.

This is something I’ve been pointing out for years, talking to others in the DDC about it (that’s Dead Dad Club! Sorry if you’re a member!). But grief is ever-evolving, and even now, I feel different to how I did a year or so ago.

On reflection now, I’ve realised that I’m glad I never treated Father’s Day as something special.
Because I know that I spent so much time idolising my dad, telling him how much I loved him, and spending time with him. 

I will always feel robbed of these adult years with my dad but I never felt like I wasted a minute of our time together. 

We’d listen to records together, he’d teach me the Latin words for wildflowers, and he’d make up stories to help me sleep.

I mark Father’s Day now, because I don’t get to mark a normal Tuesday with him.

A past version of me, jealous of people’s living dads, would have told people to cherish Father’s Day, to make sure to give your dad a call, or a card. 

But now I think it’s more about how you treat the days that aren’t added to your phone calendar by Google. Don’t feel guilty if you forgot Father’s Day, or didn’t get him a fancy present, just make sure to appreciate any phone call, any family lunch, any time spent with the people you love.