I’m still amazed that I’m a father. I’m even more amazed that so far I don’t seem to be making a horrible job of it. I may not be the best father in the world, but I think I’m doing OK.
Fathers Day gives me pause to think about all that; to think about how surprisingly fulfilling the whole thing is. I was never really interested in kids and took a little persuading to finally go for it, but now I have one of my own I realise how incredibly special it is. Aidan shares half my genetic code, so there’s nothing more fascinating than watching him grow from a tiny helpless baby into a little boy who is already trying to assert his own independence. How will he turn out? How much will he be like me? How much will he be like Jen? Whatever happens, I will always be proud of my son and love him unconditionally. Right now I think he loves me back, but I probably won’t be so sure when he’s 14.
Fathers Day is special to me for another reason too though. My Dad died a few days before Fathers Day last year, so all the advertising leading up to Fathers Day brought back all that pain and loss that I felt last year, especially being so far from the rest of that side of my family. I can console myself by knowing that he lead a full, good and happy life, but it ended too soon and that will always hurt.