Back when we first began our journey to have a child, I obviously knew that s/he wouldn’t have a dad. I did, however, imagine the roles that our dads, Grandpa L and Grandpa B, would play in his/her life. I always imagined that Father’s Day would be devoted to the doting grandfathers. Sadly, just over a month after our first attempt at TTC, Grandpa L passed away suddenly from a short battle with Lymphoma. About three and a half long years later, we finally got the wonderful news that we were indeed expecting. Five days later, we lost Grandpa B (my dad) to complications related to his paralysis. That first year, at least, after my dad’s passing was spent grieving my loss. As time has passed, I’ve transitioned into grieving more for Little Man’s loss. I’m sad that he won’t have these incredible grandpas who his moms were so lucky to call “Dad”. My mind knows that the gender of Little Man’s parents matters far less than the fact that he has two of us who love him with all that we are. My heart still hurts that he’ll miss out. I’m quite capable of teaching Little Man how to wield a hammer, throw a football, and bait a hook, but I have not and never will be one of the guys… He was supposed to have his grandfathers for that.
I realize that this perspective may be controversial to some in my community. I’m not saying that my son NEEDS a dad. I just wish that he had our dads around, because I have such fond memories of the relationship I had with mine.