What The Boys Would Be Like Without You, Or An Extremely Belated Happy Father's Day

Here you are, with our three boys, holding up the grass snake you found in the yard that day. You had first found the skin that he had shed along the bushes at the side of the house, and somehow you knew that there would be a snake not too far behind.

You called our boys over, they came running. Somehow, when it's me calling their names, it's not received with the same excitement and enthusiasm. You didn't say a word, you just waited for them. I would have been shouting, "come here! a snake! look -- what do you think, what kind is it? how long do you think it is? do you think there's more? will he eat mice? we should go inside and google what kind, I wonder where he lives, you think it's poisonous? what if he bites!"

Somehow, you knew to say nothing but their names.

When they come to your side, you hold up the snake, they are doubley -- no, tripley -- pleased with the visual and unexpected surprise. I would have spoiled it with words.

I run over, too, to hear what all the shouts of  "me! can I hold it? I want to hold it!" are about.

A common garden snake, but you turned it into a day where they peered into their future, and -- in an instant, saw what they could be like one day. To see what being a father can mean and gave them a role to aspire to.

I can't do that.

If they were with just me, their conversations would include words like, "adorable, sweet, cute as can be."

If they were with just me, they would have heard me scream at the first uncoiling of that snake in the bushes, and they would have had to come to my rescue.

If they were with just me, you wouldn't see the joy that their smiles can barely contain in the picture above, while they feel what it is like to be a boy, who has a father.

If they were with just me, they would secretly pray at night for a father; just like I did, just like my two brothers did.

Happy Extremely Belated Publicly Declared Father's Day To You ...

With love,

from your kingdom

**My father passed away suddenly when I was in the first grade. My brother was seven, my other brother two. I spent my entire childhood wishing for a father. In my days of dating, I would not become serious with anyone who wasn't father material.  And I was waiting for the best. The wait was indeed long, and the process disheartening. I met my husband when I was 33 years old, and I remember knowing, "this man would make a good father." I only wish my two brothers had had a father who would call out their names to show them a snake he had found in their garden.