This month, as we celebrate Fathers Day on 17th June in the Uk, our Women of the World will be sharing their thoughts and experiences of the Father Figures who have impacted on their life, their world and their choices.
I woke up one morning this week feeling over tired, I had a sore throat, and was irritable. I got up and dragged my sorry self to the shower. I stood there with the hot water pounding on me…pulling my hair down my back, soothing my shoulders; the steam penetrating my lungs and loosening the congestion. I felt like shit!.
In that moment I decided I would take a day of sick leave. This rarely happens with me…stupidly… I usually wait ’til I can go no further and then succumb to it, the illness, the sickness, whatever it happens to be.
This day, my chest was tight, the bones in my head and face throbbed… the world will not end if I do not go to work, I told myself.
I step out of the shower, dry myself, and dress in sweat pants, thick socks and a sweater that was my fathers.
As I pull it over my head I inhale deeply and smell my father, my mother, the home of my birth family. A tiny part of me, that which is weakened by sickness, wants to collapse in a heap and sob. A part of me swells with love, knowing I was and am truly loved. Still I want to collapse and sob…weep tears of loss and sadness, weep tears of strength and comfort, weep tears because I am exhausted and too tired to resist, weep tears because I have known what it is like to be loved.
A deep and calming breath, a smile that evolves from a warm and caring heart, and I pick myself up and gently engage with the day. I feed the chickens and talk to the dogs. I make myself coffee, light the fire and all the while am wrapped in the safety of my father’s love.
The next day, feeling slightly better I think I can face the world. I pull on my denim skirt, my thick tights, my flat and very comfortable loafers and once more Dad’s sweater…big, baggy, pure warm wool.
All day, I go about my work gently, with my dad by my side.