Today, like millions of dutiful children across America, I picked up the phone and called my dad. He was heading to the backyard to grill. He was going to sit poolside and enjoy the sunshine with my mom.
We shifted from Father’s Day talk to discussing the everyday – work, my plans for the afternoon, the weather here. The same stuff we cover every time we talk. And then I hung up the phone.
Afterward, I realized it was the first phone call I have had with my father in the past six months where I did not ask, how are you? without some additional meaning behind it. Where I was not asking about treatments or tests, doctor’s appointments or results. Where I was not asking, how are you really feeling. Do you still have hair? Are you nauseous? How is mom?
I told D.
And then I teared up. Not because I didn’t ask him. But because I didn’t have to. So this Father’s Day is a special one for me. Because it was normal. Because my dad still answers the phone when I want to wish him well, when I need advice, when I want to just say hi. I love you. And I am so very glad you are here.