I thought I was okay. I was even pleasantly surprised with my own go-with-the-flow attitude over the last week. Standing in hallways speaking to teachers who ever so gently tried to tell me that they “might” have encouraged Noah to make a present for Grandpa instead of his Dad for Fathers Day. The hesitation hanging in the air as they looked to me for some sort of reaction. Approval maybe? I listened not knowing what to say, so I forced a smile. I thought in my head that the proper response should have been, “Oh thanks, or maybe “Oh, that’s good” but the words wouldn’t come. Then, another sentence to fill the silence I had left. ”Well, we did suggest that he could make one for one of his Uncles, or his other Grandpa, but he seemed a bit confused and didn’t know what to do.” I wondered silently to myself if they had even asked him what he wanted to do before throwing out suggestions to fill the awkward teacher-student moment that lay before them. I couldn’t ask them myself, it seemed cruel or judgmental to even inquire.

As I prepared supper tonight, the kids were doing some crafts and we were listening to music. The evening sun was shining in and I noticed how nice it was to see the kids puttering about chatting freely to one another. Out of the blue Audrey turned to me and said, “My friends feel sorry for me.” I kept chopping potatoes and casually asked why she thought that. “Well, someone asked if that picture was even my Dad, and that it must be so sad that it’s Fathers Day and I don’t have a Dad.” Audrey looked to me with what seemed like hopeful eyes for some wise words. I was stumped, not sure what to say but knowing that I should pick my words carefully. I could feel her struggling with the strong emotions that had been brewing for a few days now. I asked her what she said to her friend. She replied to her classmate “Yah, its sad, my Dad died, but I have a Grandpa...and this is a picture of my Mom’s friend. He’s my friend too…he makes me laugh, he’s really fun…and he’s a Dad. I’m very sad on Fathers Day but I try to remember my Dad. He was a good Dad.”

I hid my tears from her and agreed, “Yep, he was a really good Dad wasn’t he...”