I recently sent my father a card for Father’s day. The trouble with doing a small deed like that is it’s small torture along the way. First there’s the shopping of it; the picking up of each card and opening it to a humorous play on a scenario that should fit the average American consumer but it is so far from the mark it could easily be taken as a dig. “Dear Dad, Remember all the time when I was little...” hahaha, back in front of those light green envelopes you go. “Father, you’re the strongest guy I know...” another smirk and slide back in to the place holder. After finally settled on the most generic one I could find, I figured half the battle would be over. I knew he could take it all the wrong way or maybe not take it at all. Either way, I felt like I did my part and did more then he traditionally ever did in my past. I was watching Grey’s Anatomy the other day and there was scene where Meredith is hoping her father had secretly sent her letters and they were hidden in a drawer somewhere... but the truth is for girls like us, there is no drawer full of apologies and well wishes somewhere. He wrote me this time though. On LinkedIn. Used primarily for my Hard Rock promotions, there two messages sit. One sent I’m guessing on the day that he received the card. It simply stated thanks for the card in the subject line. I guess he felt what I felt, a feeling of non-closure, because he sent another message a few days later. It reminded me that how I wrote in the card that he “may not be in my day-to-day life that I still appreciate him for the life he provided me with that I love” ... and he then remarked that it’s 100% my choice that he’s not in my day-to-day. My first instinct was to reply “You’re right it is my choice. This time.” He took all the time in the World to travel it and ignore the life he had at home. It infuriated me that he wants to put a number or percent on the fact of our non-communication. Like there’s a science to having a dad disappear for most of your life and try to plaster over it all like starting again is that easy and the choice was a percent if not all mine. I thought about it for a while. Not replying. Letting it sit with it’s earlier sent companion. I watched a sad movie and cried. I thought that would make me feel better but it only made me miss my grandparents. I’ve been doing that more and more lately. I realized I spent so many moments compressing their memory so I that could function on the day-to-day. And then it hit me. Tears rolling down with the water in the shower I realized that it makes me sad to see my father. Whenever we’re together it’s just a big reminder. Of the fact that he wasn’t around. Of the mother I’ll never get to know. Of my grandparents I miss so much every day. It makes me sad. And being sad has not been part of my professional or personal agenda. I want to thrive. I want to get the career or something like it of my desire. I don’t want constant reminders of the things I lost or never had. I still haven’t replied or decided if I will.