Today, I want to acknowledge every father. My heart swells and my eyes are not dry as I scroll through various social media feeds. I love reading your sweet words about the men in your life - your husbands and fathers. I love the funny quirks you share, and the photos that move your heart; the images you think of when you think of the fathers in your life. For me, I am surrounded by some incredible examples of fatherhood - family members and friends alike. I have had the privilege of having these examples, who have shown me so many different sides of fatherhood. My father has shown me what it means to be family - to be loyal and love one another. My step-father has shown me what it means to love someone as if they are your own flesh and blood. My grandfather has taught me to give to those around you, to love them and be generous. My father-in-law has taught me how to listen to those around me and to respect others. Then I have friends who are fathers and they have shown me so much - how to lead your family, how to truly train up a child.
The strongest, bravest, best father I know though, is Ryan. (You're probably not surprised.) I have talked again and again about my admiration for my husband. I won't stop doing that, so if you're bored, move on. While I was pregnant with Emmett, my sweet, sweet husband worked tirelessly and without complaint to provide for us. He came to every midwife appointment, and held my hand each time we listened to that incredible heartbeat. We cried joyous tears together whenever we saw Emmett on the ultrasound machine, and marveled that God had chosen to use us to create this beautiful new life.
When everything happened, and we were told that Emmett was gone, our world stopped. Our hearts completely shattered, and we didn't know what to do. If I'm honest, there are still plenty of days where we don't know what to do. The weeks that followed the week from hell were truly difficult. They were some of the darkest days, filled with the deepest pain, and so many questions for God. We hold each other daily, even still, and talk about what happened. We go over details, and remind each other that there was nothing that could be done. We hang onto hope, knowing where he is, and knowing we will get to see him again. We talk about the nine months we knew Emmett, and we laugh about what we learned about him. We giggle over how the cat would paw at my rolling belly, and how Emmett would stop rolling around to listen to Ryan talk to him. We smile as we remember how he danced when I sang, or when Ryan would play guitar for him. We weep over his death, we shake our fist at satan, and pray for the world we live in, because we know his death is only the result of a fallen and broken world.
As time has gone on, Ryan continues to show me what it is to be a father. Even though our son is in Heaven, and not in our arms, he continues to demonstrate love for Emmett. Even in the simple acts, like making sure our son has a clean headstone. The other day I watched as Ryan knelt on his hands and knees, clearing away dirt and debris, lovingly wiping all of it away, until it shone.
To the people who want to say, "Someday…" I say no.
No, not someday. We are parents now.
Ryan is a father, and he loves our son well.
Everyday he has demonstrated love, courage, strength, compassion, and kindness. He is continually growing into a better father daily. He became a father on July 14, 2014, the day we found out we were pregnant, when Emmett was the size of an appleseed. Emmett made him a father, and he continues to be such a wonderful father to him.
So to Ryan, and every other father who is without their child today, Happy Father's Day. May the pain of loss not outweigh the love for your child on this day. If you are without your father, hang onto hope, and try to remember the good, however that looks. I think about my friends whose fathers simply didn't want to be part of their lives, and to you I would say, remember the men who have taught you what real fatherhood is. For those who have lost and miss the fathers, I'm learning to take these days as days of remembrance. Even in the future, when we have more children, each holiday is an extra day to remember the one we miss.
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