Despite having left clinical medicine a couple of years ago, I remain an ER doc at heart. What this means is that I seldom get sentimental on specific holidays. I've had to work a lot of them over the years, which generally shields me from nostalgia over missed greeting card brunches and the like.
Why did this particular Father's Day affect me more than usual? Several reasons.
- This was my first one without my father.
- Google photos, which seems to pride itself on making my inner sap come out, sent me a "this time last year" photo of dad and I together. I'd almost forgotten we drove up to see him that weekend.
- My mom was particularly down when we spoke.
- My kids don't need me the way they once did, and it's hard to figure out how to be of service to them.
In many ways, we had an idyllic weekend that just so happened to overlap with Father's Day. We were out of town, staying on a mind-bogglingly beautiful lake house through the generosity of friends, seeing many people we love who live away from us on a daily basis.
I awoke that morning to kayak on the lake with my son, watching bald eagles skim the water for fish, listening to the cries of belted kingfishers, even enjoying the gentle rain that broke through an overcast sky periodically.
We returned to the lake house and picked up my wife for a second round of paddling out on the water. Each gave me thoughtful cards expressing their love and absurd humor in ways that make me love them even more.
My daughter, who sleeps late, gave me an eye roll of acknowledgement combined with a loving card as well - a contradiction I've come to accept as adolescent normal with her.
But I could not hide the fact that I had no idea what to do with the rest of my life.
Interestingly, as we've approached our revised target "number," the one thing I've not struggled with is what my professional identity will be.
I'm trying to double down on connectedness to the people I care about.
Rafting the LA River a few weeks ago.
Visiting friends in Seattle.
And, in an hour, organizing a 6th grade class reunion as an opportunity to thank an influential and beloved teacher from long ago.
These are the things that consume my bandwidth.