This Father’s day

I’m terrible with dates, be it birthdays, anniversaries, or occasions. Whatsapp stories and Instagram posts are always a remainder. One such fine morning, it was Father’s day. Every year, I swipe left, neglecting every story trying hard just not to miss him. This haunted feeling of being called a “fatherless child” kept consuming me for 14 years and still it does.

I could barely recollect myself calling him “Dad”. It sucks when people feel sorry the moment they ask me “What does your dad do?” and realize the fact. I was insecure and vulnerable. I tried to escape every single moment that could make me miss him.

This Father’s Day, I stopped by every single post and smiled at every single one of them. The captions people quoted, and the beautiful memories they captured made me wish I could have had one. I missed him. I will always.

However, it no more sucks being called “a fatherless child”.

It doesn’t hurt looking at fathers walking an extra mile just to get their daughters their favorite street food. It doesn’t feel devastated realizing I had lived a decade under a tree without a shadow.

I had just moved on realizing that drenching pillows on Father’s Day don’t help. It never did. I miss him and that convinces me to move along.