Beyond The Stars: A Father's Day Blog

"Dad, wherever you are, you are gone but you will never be forgotten." ~ Conrad Hall

Good morning; afternoon; and evening friends and fans! Namasté. 🧘🏽‍♀️ Father's Day has never been an easy holiday for me. The weeks leading up to it often bring a familiar tightness to my chest. It is a day dedicated to celebrating paternal bonds, but for me, it has always a stark reminder of what was missing.

I lost my biological father, Dionisio, to a brain aneurysm in 2014. At first, I didn't cry. Like many who experience sudden loss after a period of estrangement, I was numb. When the tears finally did come, they weren't born out of simple sadness. They were raw, messy mix of anger, rejection, and profound abandonment.

Looking back, I find myself regretting not keeping in touch with him after 2011. I didn't actually meet him until I was 10 years old at my sister's Sweet Sixteen in August 1993. After that, he was just in and out of my life - a sporadic presence who left more questions than answers.

I remember sending him birthday cards when I was in junior high, waiting eagerly for something, anything, in return. He never sent me a single birthday card. But he did send Christmas cards, and somehow, I still have them on hand. I honestly do not even know if those birthday cards I sent still exist. I used to carry the heavy weight of wondering if things would have been different if I had been born a boy - maybe then, he would have stayed.

Now, time has passed, and I wish I had more pictures of him while he was alive to show my son.

My experience shaped my life in ways I never anticipated. I had made a firm decision never to become a mother because I was terrified of passing generational trauma down my children. Yet, life had other plans. At age 26, I survived a traumatic sexual assault that resulted in my son. Today, he is on the autism spectrum - a blessing I never planned for, but one I cherish, as he is verbal and functional.

Watching my son grow up without a father figure in his life is incredibly painful. It's a bitter symmetry that I never wanted to happen. It breaks my heart to watch him navigate the same absence I did, and it forces me to confront my own father wound all over again.

However, I am learning that grief is not something you can skip over; it has to be lived. I am giving myself the grace to know that it is going to take a while until I've fully healed from his absence, both before and after his death.

To anyone else out there dreading today, holding onto complicated grief, or mourning the father you never truly had: be gentle with yourself. You do not owe anyone a petty, wrapped-up story about your loss. You are allowed to be angry, you are allowed to mourn, what should have been, and you are allowed to heal on your own terms. Healing isn't about forgetting the past; it's about learning to carry it in a way that doesn't break you.

Blessed be,

Jennifer