My Day of Infamy


Everyone has their day of infamy. The day you dread when it comes every year. The day you would rather forget about and wish everyone would shut up about. For some it’s their birthday, for others it’s Christmas Day. Mine, is Fathers’ Day.

Because of two very painful personal experiences with men who have the label “father”, Fathers’ Day is a reminder of all the things that others enjoy and I have only dreamed about. And in our highly networked society, watching “Happy Fathers’ Day” post after post fill my feed and streams felt like this quote from a photographer who reunited with her father after 15 years:

I should have been happy for him, but when I watched him play with his daughter, it felt like a bruise someone kept pressing. ~Diana Markosian, documentary photographer

Yes, I am secretly happy for each and everyone who is able to say those words. Secretly, because the happiness gets buried under the pain that surfaces every year on this day. The pain that hurts worse with each happy sappy post.

So what do you do on your day of infamy? Do you hide from everyone and everything until the day is over? Stay off the internet and not turn on the TV?

Or should we embrace the hurt. Get to the root of it and work it out. It’s been 30 years for one and 8 years for the other. I do know that no matter how much time passes, some hurts, and therefore some days, will always remain infamous to you.

infamy

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